As some vast Tropic tree, itself a wood, That crests its Head with clouds, beneath the flood Feeds its deep roots, and with the bulging flank Of its wide base controls the fronting bank, (By the slant current`s pressure scoop`d away The fronting bank becomes a foam-piled bay) High in the Fork the uncouth Idol knits His channel`d Brows; low murmurs stir by fits And dark below the horrid Faquir sits; An Horror from its broad Head`s branchy wreath Broods o`er the rude Idolatry beneath—SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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