With Horror in his Eye, who steals around
Each hollow Isle; and with a fierce Embrace
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Clasps the encrumbling ruin? 'Tis the Foe
Of Men and Virtue, Eldest-born of Night,
And Superstition call'd, a Giant fond
Of Dead-Men's Bones, and vagrant [Rottenness],
Denied a Tomb; around him turns the wheel,
And faggots blaze; and prizons, with a Groan
Resounding loud, affright the Coward Soul