By the author of The Diaboliad.
With mortal Natures.--Pallid, pining Care, }
Pain, griping Penury, with black Despair, }
And agonizing Death, in all his sable pomp, were there. }
Next _Melancholy_ came, with solemn pace;
A purple veil o'er-spread her moisten'd face.
And now she fix'd her eyes upon the ground;
Now with dejected air, she turn'd around,
As if to view the sad approaching Train,
Degraded by unfeeling FOLLY'S chain.
Pale _Science_ follow'd;--to the sky she bore
Her fasten'd looks, as eager to explore
Some great design; nor did she seem to hear
The cruel scoffings, and th' insulting sneer,
Of brazen Ignorance and her foul-mouth'd crew,
Who at the Holy Maid their venom threw.
Grave _Wisdom_, next, with wrinkled brow appear'd,
White was his head, and white his flowing beard.
By the right hand _Religion_'s self he led;
Who, as she pass'd along, devoutly read
In that _Celestial Book_, whose sacred page
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