(4)
Now ſunk the ſun, the cloſing hour of day
Came onward, mantl’d o’er with ſober grey
Nature in ſilence bid the world repoſe:
When near the road a ſtately palace roſe.
There by the moon thro’ ranks of trees they paſs,
Whoſe verdure crown'd their ſloping ſide of graſs.
It chanc'd, the noble maſter of the dome,
Still made his houſe the wand'ring ſtranger' home:
Yet ſtill the kindneſs from a thirſt of praiſe
Prov'd the vain flouriſh of expenſive eaſe.
The pair arrive: The liv'ry'd ſervants wait
Their Lord receives them at the ⟨pompous⟩ gate.
The table groans with coſtly piles of food,
And all is more than hoſpitably good.
Then led to reſt, the day's long toil they drown,
Deep funk in ſleep, and ſilk, and heaps of down.
At length 'tis morn, and at the dawn ⟨of⟩ day,
Along the wide canals the Zephyrs play:
Freſh o'er the gay parterres the breezes creep
And ſhake the neighb'ring wood to baniſh ſlеер.
Up riſe the gueſts, obedient to the call;
An early banquet deck'd the ſplended hall
Rich luſcious wine a golden goblet grac'd,
