Page:The Art of Preserving Health - A Poem in Four Books.djvu/33

 Nough of air. A desart subject now, Rougher and wilder, rises to my sight. A barren waste, where not a garland grows To bind the muse's brow; not even a proud Stupendous solitude frowns o'er the heath, To rouse a noble horror in the soul: But rugged paths fatigue, and error leads Thro' endless labyrinths the devious feet. Rh