In vain adores the monstrous shapes, that fill
The peaks of Meru’s golden-hornëd hill;
Poisoned with death the stream of Indus flows,
The baleful air a lurid furnace glows.
The spotted pard in sultry jungle cowers,
His nerves unstrung and withered all his powers;
The glistering scales, which clothe the serpent, wane,
Their splendors darkened by the touch of pain;
Flickers no more his tongue like cloven flame;
His crushing coils and horrent length unrolled,