Of his dear lord and cabin both forgot;
Panting he laid, and gather’d fresher air
To cool the burning in his entrails hot;
But breathing (which wise nature did prepare
To ‘suage the stomach’s heat) now booted not,
For little ease, (alas!) small help they win,
That breathe forth air, and scalding fire suck in.”
The learned prelate Eusebius gives a very philosophical description of the impure state of the atmosphere during a great pestilence which ravaged the Roman empire. He writes thus: “The air was so noxious, every where deranged with corrupt vapours, fumes from the earth so putrid, winds from the sea, exhalations from marshes and rivers so injurious, that a certain poisonous liquor, as it were from putrid carcases, was brought by the elements, and covered the subjacent seats or benches, walls, and sides of houses, and the dew appeared like the sanies of dead bodies.” (See edit. Paris. 1628.)
Tacitus, in his description of Rome, notes the occurrence, every third or fourth year, of what they termed “tempus grave aut annus pestilens,” and he gives the following tetrastichon—
“Rome voracious of men subdues the lofty necks of heroes;