LXXV. But ah! their scorned day of grace was past: For (horrible to tell!) a desert wild Before them stretch'd, bare, comfortless, and vast; With gibbets, bones, and carcases defil'd. There nor trim field, nor lively culture smiled; But sands abrupt on sands lay loosely piled, Through which they floundering toil'd with painful care, Whilst Phoebus smote them sore, and fired the cloudless air. LXXVI. Then, varying to a joyless land of bogs, Or else the ground by piercing Caurus sear'd, Gaunt Beggary and Scorn, with many hell-hounds moe. LXXVII. The first was with base dunghill rags yclad, Tainting the gale, in which they flutter'd light; His hollow eyne shook forth a sickly light; Meantime foul scurf and blotches him defile; And dogs, where-e'er he went, still barked all the while. LXXVIII. The other was a fell despiteful fiend: Hell holds none worse in baleful bower below: By pride, and wit, and rage, and rancour, keen'd; With nose up-turn'd, he always made a show Was cold, and keen, like blast from boreal snow: Such were the twain that off drove this ungodly fry. LXXIX. Even so through Brentford town, a town of mud, The filthy beasts, that never chew the cud, Still grunt, and squeak, and sing their troublous song, And oft they plunge themselves the mire among: But ay the ruthless driver goads them on, And ay of barking dogs the bitter throng Makes them renew their unmelodious moan; Ne ever find they rest from their unresting fone. ΤΟ THE MEMORY OF SIR ISAAC NEWTON. SHALL the great soul of Newton quit this earth, Yet am not I deterr'd, though high the theme, In Nature's general symphony to join. And what new wonders can ye show your guest! Who, while on this dim spot, where mortals toil Clouded in dust, from Motion's simple laws, Could trace the secret hand of Providence, Wide-working through his universal frame. Have ye not listen'd while he bound the suns And planets to their spheres! th' unequal task Of human-kind till then. O'er erring man the year, Oft had they roll'd and oft disgrac'd R 2 |