When raving in eternal pains,
And loaded with ten thousand chains,
Vice, deep in Phlegeton, yet lay,
Nor with her visage blasted day;
No fear to guiltless man was known,
For God and Virtue reign'd alone.
But, when from native flames and night,
The cursed monster wing'd her flight,
Pale Fear, among her hideous train,
Chas'd sweet Contentment from her reign;
Plac'd Death and Hell before each eye,
And wrapt in mist the golden sky;
Banish'd from day each dear delight,
And shook with conscious starts the night.