Burn I as many every day, nay hour,
Lift it again, and lo! ten thousand more
Are at my feet. * * * Weep not, O Proserpine!
No such destruction shall be ever thine;
Nor Vulcan’s fate: he, Pluto’s chief, shall dwell
For ever in those glorious realms of hell.
Nox,[156] ancient creature, shall for ever find
My heart in favour, and my edicts kind:
Though dark her ways, her manners I approve,—
She makes no prayers to Jupiter or Jove,—