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 Carcases defil'd.
There nor trim Field, nor lively Culture smil'd;
Nor waving Shade was seen, nor Fountain fair;
But Sands abrupt on Sands lay loosely pil'd,
Through which they floundering toil'd with painful Care,
Whilst  smote them sore, and fir'd the cloudless Air.