Age on his hairs the winter snow had spread ; So loves it more; for Like his like still loves: Deep from the ground he digs his sweetest gain, And deep into the earth digs back with pain: From hell his gold he brings, and hoards in hell again. His clothes all patch'd with more than honest thrift, And when he eats, his food is worse than fasting; Thus wallowing on his god his heap of mine, He feeds his famish'd soul with that deceiving shinc. Oh, hungry metal! false, deceitful ray; Well laid'st thou dark, press'd in th' earth's hidden womb ; Yet through our mother's entrails cutting way, We drag thy buried corse from hellish tomb; While death and life a wall of thin planks only parts. Who was it first, that from thy deepest cell,, Durst rob thy palace bord'ring next to hell? Well may'st thou come from that infernal seat; Thou all the world with hell-black deeds dost fill: Fond man, that with such pain do'st woo your ill! Needless to send for grief, for he is next us still. His arms were light and cheap, as made to save Whose smoky plain a chalked impress fill'd; A bag sure seal'd: his word, Much better sav'd than spill'd! By Pleonectes, shameless Sparing went, Who whines and weeps to beg a longer day; Yet with a thund'ring voice claims tardy rent, But when he's forc'd beyond his bounded space, Loud would he cry and howl, while others laugh apace. Next march'd Asotus,* careless, spending swain ; But best reward he got that best could flatter, Thus what he thought to give, he did not give, but scatter. Before array'd in sumptuous bravery, Deck'd court-like in the choice, and newest guise; But all behind like drudging slavery, With ragged patches, rent, and bared thighs, His shameful parts, that shun the hated light, Yet neither could he see, nor feel his wretched plight. * Prodigality His shield presents to life death's latest rites, Tapers, lamps, torches, usher through the plains To endless darkness; while the sun's bright brow, With fiery beams, quenches their smoking tow, And wastes their idle cost: the word, Not need, but shew. A vagrant rout, a shoal of tattling daws, Strew him with vain-spent pray'rs, and idle lays; His steward was his kinsman, Vain Expence, So lost his treasure, getting nought in lieu, While women fond, and boys stood gaping wide But wise men all his waste and needless cost deride. Fido* was nam'd the marshall of the field; As e'er with tears welcom'd the sunny ray; Yet when more years afford more growth and might, A champion stout he was, and puissant knight, As ever came in field, or shone in armour bright. *Faith. So may we see a little lionet, When newly whelp'd, a weak and tender thing, Despis'd by ev'ry beast; but waxen great, When fuller times full strength and courage bring; The beasts all crouching low, their king adore, And dare not see what they contemn'd before; The trembling forest quakes at his affrighting roar. Mountains he flings in deep with mighty hand; Stops and turns back the sun's impetuous course ; He present makes, by wondrous proscience; His sky-like arms, dy'd all in blue and white, Yet he upon it easily descry'd The lively 'semblance of his dying Lord, Whose bleeding side with wicked steel was gor❜d, Which to his fainting sprits new courage would afford. Strange was the force of that enchanted shield, Nor final loss his courage might appal; Growing more sound by wounds, and rising by his fall. So some have feign'd that Tellus' giant son, Drew many new-born lives from his dead mother; Another rose as soon as one was done, And twenty lost, yet still remain'd another;" For when he fell, and kiss'd the barren heath, His parent straight inspir'd successive breath; And though himself was dead, yet ransom'd him from. death.* Next went Elpinus,† clad in sky-like blue; And through his arms few stars did seem to peep, Which there the workman's hand so finely drew, That rock'd in clouds they softly seem'd to sleep: His ragged shield was like a rocky mould, On which an anchor bit with surest hold j Nothing so cheerful was his thoughtful face,.. + Hope. * This shield is again alluded to in Canto 12th. Of one pure diamond celestial fair,50 That heav'nly shield by cunning hand was made; As when from fenny moors, the lumpish clouds |