THUS said, he rais'd me from the dewy Plain,
And bore, or seem'd to bear me, o'er the Main:
But soon he led me to a distant Isle,
Where Horrors reign, and Comforts never smile:
Thick Brakes and Brambles choak'd the dreary Coast,
The only Product, which the Land could boast;
Till a dejected, servile Race arose,
With gloomy Sadness brooding on their Brows:
This Crowd, promiscuous, with incessant Toil,
Or rooted up the Wood, or plough'd the Soil:
How each perform'd his Task, a Tyrant view'd;
And sternly shook his Whip, and menac'd, as he stood.
Sometimes, to shun the direful Lash, they fled;
Th'insulting Lord pursu'd with greater Speed:
Sure not so fearful fly the trembling Bears,
To shun our Hunters Darts, and missive Spears;
Sure not so swift our Hunters e'er pursu'd
The trembling Bears, when flying thro' the Wood;
As from the Tyrant's Wrath they swiftly run,
Or, as the Tyrant, swifter, urg'd 'em on.
Each to his wonted Task he drove again,
And made  mix among the servile Train;
Doom'd with the rest to groan beneath the Yoke,
Alike I felt the dire correcting Stroke.
But, O! what added most to my Despair,
My Godlike Guide was false, and left me there —