LXIX.

The gentle Knight, who faw their rueful cafe, Let fall adown his filver beard fome tears. "Certes (quoth he) it is not even in grace, "T' undo the past, and eke your broken years: "Nathlefs, to nobler worlds repentance rears, "With humble hope, her eye; to her is given "A power the truly contrite heart that chears; "She quells the brand by which the rocks are riven; "She more than merely foftens, fhe rejoices HEAVEN.

LXX.

"Then patient bear the fufferings you have earn'd,

"And by these sufferings purify the mind;

"Let wisdom be by past misconduct learn'd:
“Or pious die, with penitence refign'd;
"And to a life more happy and refin’d,

"Doubt not, you fhall, new creatures, yet arise.
“Till then, you may expect in me to find
"One who will wipe your forrow from your eyes,

"One who will foothe your pangs, and wing you to the

fkies."

LXXI.

They filent heard, and pour'd their thanks in tears. "For you (refum'd the Knight with fterner tone) "Whose hard dry hearts th' obdurate demon fears, "That villain's gifts will cost you many a groan; "In dolorous manfion long you must bemoan "His fatal charms, and weep your ftains away; "Till, foft and pure as infant goodness grown, "You feel a perfect change: then, who can fay, "What grace may yet shine forth in Heaven's eternal day?"

LXXII.

This faid, his powerful wand he wav'd anew:
Inftant, a glorious angel-train defcends,
The Charities, to-wit, of rofy hue;

Sweet love their looks a gentle radiance lends,
And with feraphic flame compaffion blends.
At once, delighted, to their charge they fly:
When lo! a goodly hofpital afcends;

In which they bade each lenient aid be nigh,
That could the fick-bed smoothe of that fad company.

LXXIII.

It was a worthy edifying fight,

And gives to human kind peculiar grace, To fee kind hands attending day and night, With tender ministry, from place to place. Some prop the head; fome, from the pallid face, Wipe off the faint cold dews weak Nature sheds; Some reach the healing draught: the whilft, to chafe The fear fupreme, around their soften'd beds, Some holy man by prayer all opening heaven dispreds.

LXXIV.

Attended by a glad acclaiming train,

Of thofe he refcu'd had from gaping hell,
Then turn'd the Knight; and, to his hall again
Soft-pacing, fought of peace the moffy cell:
Yet down his cheeks the gems of pity fell,
To fee the helpless wretches that remain❜d,
There left thro' delves and deferts dire to yell;

Amaz'd, their looks with pale dismay were stain'd, And spreading wide their hands they meek repentance

feign'd.

LXXV.

But ah! their fcorned day of grace was paft:
For (horrible to tell!) a defert wild

Before them ftretch'd, bare, comfortlefs, and vaft;
With gibbets, bones, and carcafes defil'd.

There nor trim field, nor lively culture fmil'd;
Nor waving fhade was feen, nor fountain fair;

But fands abrupt on fands lay loosely pil'd,

Thro' which they floundering toil'd with painful care, Whilft Phoebus fmote them fore, and fir'd the cloudless air.

LXXVI.

Then, varying to a joyless land of bogs,
The fadden'd country a grey waste appear'd;

Where nought but putrid steams and noisome fogs
For ever hung on drizzly Aufter's beard;

Or elfe the ground by piercing Caurus fear'd,
Was jagg'd with froft, or heap'd with glazed fnow:
Thro' these extremes a ceafelefs round they steer'd,
By cruel fiends still hurry'd to and fro,

Gaunt Beggary, and Scorn, with many hell-hounds moe.

LXXVII.

The first was with base dunghill rags yclad,
Tainting the gale, in which they flutter'd light;
Of morbid hue his features, funk, and fad;
His hollow eyne fhook forth a fickly light;
And o'er his lank jaw-bone, in piteous plight,
His black rough beard was matted rank and vile;
Direful to fee! an heart-appalling fight!

Meantime foul fcurf and blotches him defile;
And dogs, where-e'er he went, ftill barked all the while.

:

LXXVIII.

The other was a fell defpightful fiend:

Hell holds none worfe in baleful bower below:
By pride, and wit, and rage, and rancour, keen'd;
Of man alike, if good or bad, the foe:

With nofe up-turn'd, he always made a fhew
As if he smelt fome naufeous fcent; his eye
Was cold, and keen, like blaft from boreal fnow;
And taunts he caften forth most bitterly.

Such were the twain that off drove this ungodly fry.

LXXIX.

Even fo thro' Brentford town, a town of mud,
An herd of brisly swine is prick'd along;

The filthy beafts, that never chew the cud,

Still grunt, and squeak, and sing their troublous fong, And oft they plunge themselves the mire among:

But ay the ruthlefs driver goads them on,

And ay of barking dogs the bitter throng
Makes them renew their unmelodious moan;

Ne ever find they rest from their unresting fone.