"Then patient bear the sufferings you have earn'd,
And by these sufferings purify the mind;
Let wisdom be by past misconduct learn'd:
Or pious die, with penitence resign'd;
And to a life more happy and refined,
Doubt not, you shall new creatures yet arise.
Till then, you may expect in me to find
One who will wipe your sorrow from your eyes,
One who will soothe your pangs, and wing you to the skies."
They silent heard, and pour'd their thanks in tears.
"For you," resumed the knight with sterner tone,
"Whose hard dry hearts the' obdurate demon sears;
That villain's gifts will cost you many a groan.
In dolorous mansion long you must bemoan
His fatal charms, and weep your stains away;
Till, soft and pure as infant goodness grown,
You feel a perfect change: then, who can say
What grace may yet shine forth in Heaven's eternal day?"
This said, his powerful wand he waved anew:
Instant, a glorious angel-train descends,—
The Charities, to wit, of rosy hue;
Sweet love their looks a gentle radiance lends,
And with seraphic flame compassion blends.
At once, delighted, to their charge they fly:
When, lo! a goodly hospital ascends;
In which they bade each lenient aid be nigh,
That could the sick-bed smooth of that sad company.
LXXV.
It was a worthy, edifying sight,
And gives to human-kind peculiar grace,
To see kind hands attending day and night,
With tender ministry, from place to place.
Some prop the head; some from the pallid face
Wipe off the faint cold dews weak Nature sheds;
Some reach the healing draught: the whilst, to chase
The fear supreme, around their soften'd beds,
Some holy man by prayer all opening heaven dispreds.
Attended by a glad acclaiming train, Of those he rescued had from gaping hell, Then turn'd the knight; and, to his hall again Soft pacing, sought of Peace the mossy cell. Yer down his cheeks the gems of pity fell, To see the helpless wretches that remain'd, There left through delves and deserts dire to yell: Amazed, their looks with pale dismay were stain'd, And, spreading wide their hands, they meek repentance feign'd.
But, ah! their scorned day of grace was past:
For, horrible to tell!) a desert wild
Before them stretch'd, bare, comfortless, and vast;
With gibbets, bones, and carcasses defiled.
There nor trim field nor lively culture smiled;
Nor waving shade was seen, nor fountain fair :
But sands abrupt on sands lay loosely piled,
Through which they floundering toil'd with painful care,
Whilst Phoebus smote them sore, and fired the cloudless air.
Then, varying to a joyless land of bogs,
The sadden'd country a grey waste appear'd,
Where nought but putrid streams and noisome fogs
For ever hung on drizzly Auster's beard ;
Or else the ground, by piercing Caurus sear'd,
Was jagg'd with frost, or heap'd with glazed snow.
Through these extremes a ceaseless round they steer'd,
By cruel fiends still hurried to and fro,
Gaunt Beggary, and Scorn, with many hell-hounds moe.
The first was with base dunghill rags yelad, Tainting the gale, in which they flutter'd light; Of morbid hue his features, sunk, and sad; His hollow eyne shook forth a sickly light; And o'er his lank jaw-bone, in piteous plight, His black rough beard was matted rank and vile; Direful to see! a heart-appalling sight! Meantime foul scurf and blotches him defile; And dogs, where'er he went, still barked all the while.
The other was a fell despiteful fiend :
Hell holds none worse in baleful bower below:
By pride, and wit, and rage, and rancour, keen'd;
Of man, alike if good or bad, the foe.
With nose up-turn'd, he always made a show
As if he smelt some nauseous scent: his eye
Was cold and keen, like blast from Boreal snow;
And taunts he casten forth most bitterly.
Such were the twain that off drove this ungodly fry.
Even so through Brentford town, a town of mud,
A herd of bristly swine is prick'd along :
The filthy beasts, that never chew the cud,
Still grunt, and squeak, and sing their troublous song,
And oft they plunge themselves the mire among;
But aye the ruthless driver goads them on,
And aye of barking dogs the bitter throng
Makes them renew their unmelodious moan;
Ne ever find they rest from their unresting fone.
END OF THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.
THE PERSONS DESCRIBED IN THE FIRST CANTO.
STANZAS LVII.-LIX.
Of all the gentle tenants of the place,
There was a man of special grave remark, &c.
These three stanzas are generally supposed to describe William Paterson, who was Thomson's deputy, and afterwards his successor, in the office of Surveyor-General of the
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