At first we only felt th’ oppressive weight
Of gloomy clouds, then teeming with our fate,
And labouring to discharge the sultry heat:
But ere four moons alternate changes knew,
With deadly blasts the fatal south wind blew,
Infected all the air, and poison’d as it flew.
Our mountains, too, a dire infection yield,
For crowds of vipers creep along the field,
And with polluted gore and baneful teems
Taint all the lakes and venom all the streams.