Page:The dispensary - a poem in six canto's (sic) (IA b30356775).pdf/39

How Cochles did the Tyber's Surges brave,
How Curtius plung'd into the gaping Grave;
Great Cyrus, here, the Medes and Persians join,
And, there, th' immortal Battle of the Boyn.

⁠As the light Messenger the Fury spy'd,
A while his crudling Blood forgot to glide;
Confusion on his fainting Vitals hung,
And falt'ring Accents flutter'd on his Tongue,
At length, assuming Courage, he convey'd
His Errand, then he shrunk into a Shade.

⁠The Hag lay long revolving what might be
The blest Event of such an Embassie.
Then blazons in dread Smiles her hideous Form,
So Light'ning gilds the unrelenting Storm.
Thus she———Mankind are bless'd, they riot still
Unbounded in Exorbitance of Ill
By Devastation the rough Warrior gains,
And Farmers fatten most when Famine reigns;
For sickly Seasons the Physicians wait,
And Politicians thrive in Broils of State.
The Lover's easie when the Fair One sighs,
And Gods subsist not but by Sacrifice.

⁠Each other Being some Indulgence knows;
Few are my Joys, but infinite my Woes.
My present Pain Britannia's Genius wills,
And thus the Fates record my future Ills.

⁠A Heroine shall Albion's Scepter bear,
With Arms shall vanquish Earth, and Heav'n with Pray'r.

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