So when the years shall have revolved the date,
Th' inevitable hour, of Naples' fate,
Her sapp'd foundations shall with thunders shake,
And heave and toss upon the sulph'rous lake;390
Earth's womb at once the fiery flood shall rend,
And in th' abyss her plunging tow'rs descend.
The toils, the perils, of the wintry town;
What riots seen, what bustling crowds I bor'd;
How oft I cross'd where carts and coaches roar'd;
Yet shall I bless my labours, if mankind397
Their future safety from my dangers find.
Thus the bold traveller, inur'd to toil,
Whose steps have printed Asia's desert soil,400
The barb'rous Arab's haunt, or shiv'ring crost
Dark Greenland's mountains of eternal frost,
Whom Providence in length of years restores
To the wish'd harbour of his native shores,
Sets forth his journals to the public view,405
To caution, by his woes, the wandering crew.
