Page:The Art of Preserving Health - A Poem in Four Books.djvu/106

98 Heav'n heard them not. Of every hope depriv'd; Fatigu'd with vain resources; and subdued With woes resistless and enfeebling fear; Passive they sunk beneath the weighty blow. Nothing but lamentable sounds was heard, Nor ought was seen but ghastly views of death; Infectious horror ran from face to face, And pale despair.'Twas all the business then To tend the sick, and in their turns to die. In heaps they fell: And oft one bed, they say. The sickening, dying, and the dead contain'd.


 * Ye guardian Gods, on whom the Fates depend

Of tottering Albion! Ye eternal fires, That lead thro' heav'n the wandering year! Ye powers, That o'er th' incircling elements preside May nothing worse than what this age has seen Rh