Page:The Art of Preserving Health - A Poem in Four Books.djvu/101

B. III. Even Albion, girt with less malignant skies, Albion the poison of the Gods has drunk, And felt the sting of monsters all her own.


 * Ere yet the fell Plantagenets had spent

Their ancient rage, at Bosworth's purple field; While, for which tyrant England should receive, Her legions in incestuous murders mix'd, And daily horrors; till the Fates were drunk With kindred blood by kindred hands profus'd: Another plague of more gygantic arm Arose, a monster never known before Rear'd from Cocytus its portentuous head. This rapid fury not, like other pests, Pursued a gradual course, but in a day Rush'd as a storm o'er half th' astonish'd isle, And strew'd with sudden carcasses the land.

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