96
The ART of
B. III.
Were kind, that long they lingered not in pain.
580For who surviv'd the sun's diurnal race
Rose from the dreary gates of hell redeem'd:
Some the sixth hour oppress'd, and some the third.
Of many thousands few untainted 'scap'd;
Of those infected fewer 'scap'd alive:
585Of those who liv'd some felt a second blow;
And whom the second spar'd a third destroy'd.
Frantic with fear, they sought by flight to shun
The fierce contagion. O'er the mournful land
Th' infected city pour'd her hurrying swarms:
590Rous'd by the flames that fir'd her seats around,
Th' infected country rush'd into the town.
Some, sad at home, and in the desart some,
Abjur'd the fatal commerce of mankind;
In
