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OF TEMPER.
67


Th' infernal portress of this doleful dome,
With fiery lips that swell'd with poisonous foam,
Pale Discord, rag'd; with whole tormenting tongue,
Thro' all its caves th' extensive region rung:
A living vulture was the fury's crest;
And in her hand a rattlesnake she prest,
Whose angry joints incessantly were heard
To sound defiance to the screaming bird.
"The boundless depth of this dire prison holds
The untam'd spirits of imperious scolds:
Nor think that females only fill the cave!
Male termagants have liv'd, and here they rave.
Polemics, who of peace with rancour preach,
And violate themselves the law they teach.
All of each sex are pent within this pale,
Who knew no use of language but to rail,"
Thus to her charge exclaim'd the heavenly guide,
And, as the spoke, the portals open'd wide,
And to th' observance of the shuddering maid,
Th' immeasurable den was all display'd.