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Book III.
Of VIRGIL.
87
The brooks, dry banks, and sloping hills around
With bleating flocks and lowing herds resound.
Now on whole ranks her fiercer fury falls;
Herself with putrid bodies piles the stalls, 660
Till on the foul dissolving mass they heap
Mould, and in trenches learn to bury deep.
Useless their hides; their morbid entrails brave
Alike the purging fire, and cleansing wave.
Nor dare they the polluted fleeces shear, 665
Or touch the tainted web without a fear:
But whoso once essay'd the loathsome vest,
Saw burning blisters all his limbs infest,
Rank with moist dew; nor long the Pest delay'd,
But on the shrivel'd joints devouring prey'd. 670
THE
