B. I.]
DAVIDEIS.
197
Envy at last crawls forth from that dire throng,
Of all the direfull'st; her black locks hung long,
Attir'd with curling serpents; her pale skin 155
Was almost dropp'd from the sharp bones within;
And at her breast stuck vipers, which did prey
Upon her panting heart both night and day,
Sucking black blood from thence, which to repair
Both night and day they left fresh poisons there. 160
Her garments were deep-stain'd in human gore,
And torn by her own hands, in which she bore
A knotted whip, and bowl, that to the brim
Did with green gall and juice of wormwood swim;
With which, when she was drunk, she furious grew,
And lash'd herself: thus from th' accursed crew
Envy, the worst of fiends, herself presents.
Envy, good only when she 'herself torments.
"Spend not, great king! thy precious rage," said she,
"Upon so poor a cause; shall mighty we 170
"The glory of our wrath to him afford?
"Are we not Furies still, and you our lord?
"At thy dread anger the fix'd world shall shake,
"And frighted Nature her own laws forsake:
"Do thou but threat, loud storms shall make reply,
"And thunder echo't to the trembling sky; 176
"Whilst raging seas swell to so bold an height,
"As shall the fire's proud element affright:
"Th' old drudging sun from his long-beaten way
"Shall at thy voice start, and misguide the day; 180
Of all the direfull'st; her black locks hung long,
Attir'd with curling serpents; her pale skin 155
Was almost dropp'd from the sharp bones within;
And at her breast stuck vipers, which did prey
Upon her panting heart both night and day,
Sucking black blood from thence, which to repair
Both night and day they left fresh poisons there. 160
Her garments were deep-stain'd in human gore,
And torn by her own hands, in which she bore
A knotted whip, and bowl, that to the brim
Did with green gall and juice of wormwood swim;
With which, when she was drunk, she furious grew,
And lash'd herself: thus from th' accursed crew
Envy, the worst of fiends, herself presents.
Envy, good only when she 'herself torments.
"Spend not, great king! thy precious rage," said she,
"Upon so poor a cause; shall mighty we 170
"The glory of our wrath to him afford?
"Are we not Furies still, and you our lord?
"At thy dread anger the fix'd world shall shake,
"And frighted Nature her own laws forsake:
"Do thou but threat, loud storms shall make reply,
"And thunder echo't to the trembling sky; 176
"Whilst raging seas swell to so bold an height,
"As shall the fire's proud element affright:
"Th' old drudging sun from his long-beaten way
"Shall at thy voice start, and misguide the day; 180
