Or the Embay'd Explorers of the Deep,
At their still howling North; and leave the Throne,
The Sceptre and the chested Gold to plant
The Thorn of Care upon the Brow of State,
On which Distraction drives his plow-share deep,
And helps the Scythe of Time to wrinkle there.—
"When shall I rest—O! let me, Night, [besiege]
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Thy drowsy Ear with wailing, but be thou
[Tenacious] of my Guilt; and with her Band