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Now splendid Morning tipt the hills with red whence rolls the Gange his sacred sounding tide, when seamen percht upon the topmast head Highlands far rising o’er the prows descried: Now, ’scaped the tempest and the first sea-dread, fled from each bosom terrors vain, and cried the Melindanian Pilot in delight, “Calecut-land, if aught I see aright!”