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shadowy Monarch frown'd upon his throne, O'erwearied and displeased.—"Behold, my task, Since him of Eden felt a brother's hate, Down to the brow that blanches as I speak, Hath known no respite. Would that there were one With whom to trust my cares awhile, and snatch One moment of repose. Ho! ye who wait! Give notice, that with him most worthy found By previous deeds to waste the race of man, The King of Terrors will delight to share The glory of his kingdom." Mighty winds Swollen up to earthquake violence, and tones Of many waters, like wild, warring seas, Clamor'd the edict, while the lightning's spear Wrote it in flame on every winged cloud: Yea, with such zeal the elements conspir'd To publish the decree, methought there lurk'd In each, some latent, lingering hope, to win The promis'd regency. The Passions came, Thron'd on their storm-clouds, and with varied voice, Thundering or eloquent, as best beseem'd Their several natures, boasted how to staunch Life's countless springs. But to their claims pale Death Gave credence cold. Next, fleshless Famine rose Up like a charnel-ghost, while Pestilence Came stalking on, with quiver ever full;