Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/132

 Of navigation, that, in hopeless sloth, Had slumber'd on the vast atlantic deep, For idle ages, starting, heard at last The ; who, -inspir'd, To love of useful glory rous'd mankind, And in unbounded commerce mix'd the world.

still the terrors of these storms, His jaws horrific arm'd with threefold fate, Here dwells the direful shark. Lur'd by the scent Of steaming crouds, of rank disease, and death, Behold! he rushing cuts the briny flood, Swift as the gale can bear the ship along; And, from the partners of that cruel trade, Which spoils unhappy Guinea of her sons, Demands his share of prey, demands themselves. The stormy fates descend: one death involves Tyrants and slaves; when strait, their mangled limbs Crashing at once, he dyes the purple seas With gore, and riots in the vengeful meal.

o'er this world, by equinoctial rains Flooded immense, looks out the joyless sun, And draws the copious stream: from swampy fens, Where putrefaction into life ferments, And breathes destructive myriads; or from woods, Impenetrable shades, recesses foul, In vapours rank and blue corruption wrapt, Whose gloomy horrors yet no desperate foot Has ever dar'd to pierce; then, wasteful, forth Walks the dire power of pestilent disease. A thousand hideous fiends her course attend, Sick