LXIX. The gentle knight, who faw their rueful cafe, 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: "Nathlefs, 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 foftens, the rejoices Heaven. LXX. "Then patient bear the sufferings you have earn'd, "And by these sufferings purify the mind; "Let wifdom be by past misconduct learn'd: Or pious die, with penitence refign'd; "And to a life more happy and refin'd, "Doubt not, you fhall, new creatures, yet arise. Till then, you may expect in me to find "One who will wipe your forrow from your eyes, "One who will foothe your pangs, and wing you to LXXI. [the fkies. They filent hear'd, and pour'd their thanks in tears. For you (refum'd the knight, with fterner tone) "Whofe hard dry hearts th' obdurate demon fears, "That villain's gifts will coft 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 fay, "What grace may yet fhine forth in heaven's eternal "day ?" LXXII. This LXXII. This faid, his powerful wand he wav'd anew: Sweet love their looks a gentle radiance lends, In which they bade each lenient aid be nigh, That could the fick-bed smoothe of that fad company. LXXIII. It was a worthy edifying fight, And gives to human-kind peculiar grace, To fee kind hands attending day and night, With tender miniftry, from place to place. Some prop the head; fome from the pallid face Wipe off the faint cold. dews weak nature sheds; Some reach the healing draught: the whilft, to chace The fear fupreme, around their foften'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-pacing, fought of peace the moffy cell: Yet down his cheeks the gems of pity fell, To fee the helplefs wretches that remain❜d, There left through delves and deferts dire to yell; Amaz'd, their looks with pale difmay were ftain'd, And spreading wide their hands they meek repentance feign'd. LXXV. But, LXXV. But, ah! their scorned day of grace was paft: Before them stretch'd, bare, comfortless, and vast; There nor trim field, nor lively culture fmil'd; Nor waving shade was feen, nor fountain fair; But fands abrupt on fands lay loosely pil'd, [eare, Through which they floundering toil'd with painful Whilft Phoebus fmote them fore, and fir'd the cloudlefs LXXVI. Then, varying to a joyless land of bogs, The fadden'd country a grey waste appear'd ; [air. Where nought but putrid steams and noisome fogs For ever hung on drizzly Auster's beard; Or elfe the ground by piercing Caurus fear'd, Was jagg'd with froft, or heap'd with glazed fnow: Through thefe extremes a ceaseless round they steer'd, By cruel fiends ftill hurry'd to and fro, Gaunt Beggary, and Scorn, with many LXXVII. hell-hounds moe. The firft was with base dunghill rags yclad, Meantime foul fcurf and blotches him defile; And dogs, wheree'er he went, ftill barked all the while. LXXVIII, The LXXVIII. The other was a fell despightful fiend : Hell holds none worfe in baleful bower below: By pride, and wit, and rage, and rancour, keen'd; With nofe up-turn'd, he always made a fhew Such were the twain that off drove this ungodly fry. Ev'n fo through Brentford town, a town of mud, The filthy beafts, that never chew the cud, But ay Still grunt, and fqueak, and fing their troublous fong, And oft they plunge themselves the mire among : the ruthless driver goads them on, And ay of barking dogs the bitter throng Makes them renew their unmelodious moan; Ne ever find they reft from their unresting fone. To To Mr. THOMSON, On his unfinished Plan of a Poem, called the CASTLE OF INDOLENCE, in Spenfer's Style. By Dr. M R E L L. I. AS S when the filk-worm, erft the tender care The which himself did make, the gathering of his days. So thou, they fay, from thy prolific brain, The which thyfelf didft make, the gathering of thy power. |