CXXVII.

He was a Greek, and on his isle had built

(One of the wild and smaller Cyclades)

A very handsome house from out his guilt,

And there he lived exceedingly at ease;

Heaven knows what cash he got, or blood he spilt,

A sad old fellow was he, if you please;

But this I know, it was a spacious building,

Full of barbaric carving, paint, and gilding.

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