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228 after Boetius by Pope, in such a manner as might justly leave him suspected of imitation, were not the images such as they might both have derived from more ancient writers.

Thy stone, O Sysiphus, stands still, Ixion rests upon his wheel, And the pale spectres dance! The furies sink upon their iron beds.

He sung; and hell consented To hear the poet's prayer; Stern Proserpine relented, And gave him back the fair.