194 .MI$CE, LLAI? EOUS ?POEblS. And plies, with unrele?t? fo. rc?., � On his own limbs, the. cruel seou.rge, Tracking his steps with blood, With many a shriek and groan , While Memory goads him on, And swells the sanguine flood. Oh is it not Remorse, who, o'er the ?m. ve Of murder'd Innocence, dolh wildly. rave Melancholy, muttering ?urSes, Lost to all around, attends Following. a long train of herses, Whose charioteers are fiends. Anguish wri'thes upon the. ground, Held by Fortitude in vain; His head he dashes: wildly. round, And gnaws his tongve for pain.' Rage, Envy, Hatred, toss their snakes, Now in fiercest conflict join, While Strife his torch exulting shakes, Then in more dreadful dance combine; Woe is there, who pauses now, Now starts forth with quicken'd pace, See Revektions, Chap. 16. ......... ?Google
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