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LXIX. The gentle knight, who saw their rueful case, Let fall adown his filver beard fome tears. Certes (quoth he) it is not ev'n in grace, “ T' undo the past, and eke your

broken years : ". Nathless, to nobler worlds repentance rears, “ With humble hope, her eye; to her is given A power the truly contrite heart that chears;

She quells the brand by which the rocks are riven; " She more than merely softens, lhe rejoices Heaven.

LXX. “ Then patient bear the sufferings you have earn’d, “ And by these sufferings purify the mind; “ Let wisdom be by paft misconduct learn'd: • Or pious die, with penitence resign'd ; " And to a life more happy and refin’d, “ Doubt not, you shall, new creatures, yet arise. “ Till then, you may expect in me to find

“ One who will wipe your sorrow from your eyes, “ One who wil soothe your pangs, and wing you to

LXXI.

[the fkies. They filent hcar'd, and pour'd their thanks in tears. “ For you (resum’d the knight, with fterner tone) “ Whofe hard dry hearts th’ obdurate demon sears, " That villain's gifts will cost you many a groan; “ In dolorous manfion long you must bemoan “ His fatal charms, and weep your

stains

away ; « Till, foft and pure as infant goodness grown,

• You feel a perfect change : then, who can say, ' 6. What grace may yet fhine forth in heaven's eternal

LXXII. This

6 day."

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LXXII.
This faid, his powerful wand he wav'd anew :
Instant, a glorious angel-train descends,
The Charities, to-wit, of rosy hue;
Sweet love their looks a gentle radiance lends,
And with seraphic flame compassion blends.
At once, delighted, to their charge they fly:
When, lo! a goodly hospital afcends;

In which they bade each lenient aid be nigh,
That could the sick-bed smoothe of that fad company.

LXXIII.
It was a worthy edifying fight,
And gives to human-kind peculiar grace,
To see kind hands attending day and night,
With tender ministry, from place to place.
Soine prop the head; some from the pallid face
Wipe off the faint cold. dews weak nature sheds ;
Some reach the healing draught: the whilst, to chace

The fear supreme, around their soften'd beds,
Some holy man by prayer all opening heaven dispreds.

LXXIV.
Attended by a glad acclaiming train,
Of those he rescued had from gaping hell,
Then turn'd the knight; and, to his hall again
Soft-racing, fought of peace the mossy cell:
Yet down his cheeks the gems of pity fell,
To see the helpless wretches that remain’d,
There left through delves and deserts dire to yell ;

Amaz’d, their looks with pale dismay were stain's, And spreading wide their hands they meek repentance fcignid.

LXXV. But,

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 smil'd; Nor waving shade was seen, nor fountain fair; But fands abrupt on sands lay loosely pild, [sare,

Through which they floundering toild with painful Whilft Phoebus smote them fore, and fir'd the cloudless LXXVI.

(air. Then, varying to a joyless land of bogs, The sadden'd country a grey waste appear'd ; Where nought but putrid steams and noisome fogs For ever hung on drizzly Auster's beard ; Or else the ground by piercing Caurus sear’d, Was jagg'd with frost, or heap'd with glazed snow: Through these extremes a ceaseless round they steerd,

By cruel fiends still hurry'd to and fro,
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;
Of morbid hue his features, funk, and fad;
His hollow eyne shook forth a sickly light;
And o'er his lank jaw-bone, in piteous plight,
His black rough beard was matted rank and vile;
Direful to see! an heart-appalling fight!

Meantime foul scurf and blotches him defile;
And dogs, wheree'er he went, still barked all the while.

LXXVIII. The

LXXVIII.
The other was a fell despightful fiend :
Hell holds none worse in baleful bower below:
By pride, and wit, and rage, and rancour, keen’d;
Of man alike, if good or bad, the foe :
With nose up-turn’d, he always made a shew
As if he smelt some nauseous scent; his eye
Was cold, and keen, like blaft from boreal snow;

And taunts he caften forth most bitterly.
Such were the twain that off drove this ungodly fry.

LXXIX.
Ev'n so through Brentford town, a town of mud,
An herd of brilly swine is prick'd along;
The filthy beasts, that never chew the cud,
Still grunt, and squeak, and fing 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.

2

To

To Mr.

TH O M S ON,

On his unfinished Plan of a Poem, called the CASTLE

OF INDOLENCE, in Spenser's Style.

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A

I.
S when the filk-worm, erft the tender care

Of Syrian maidens, 'gins for to unfold
From his sleek sides, that now much neeker are
The glossy treasure, and soft threads of gold;
In various turns, and many a winding fold,
He spins his web, and as he spins decays;
Till, within circles infinite enroll'd,

He rests supine, imprison’d in the maze,
The which himself did make, the gathering of his days.

II.
So thou, they say, from thy prolific brain,
A castle, hight of indolence, didst raise;
Where liftless fprites, withouten care or pain,
In idle pleafaunce spend their jocund days,
Nor heed rewardful toil, nor feeken praise.
Thither thou didst repair in luckless hour;
And lulled with thine own enchanting lays,

Didst lie adown, entranced in the bower,
The which thyself didft make, the gathering of thy power.

III. But

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