His soft address and comely visage chang’d:
His clothes by nauseous mud bespatter’d o’er;
His hair dishevell’d, and his ruffles tore.
Struck with amaze, they view’d his dismal case,
Nor were they slow in rend’ring him solace.
Unto the parlour fire he first is led,
From thence into Matilda’s downy bed;
Then with assiduous care they kindly soothe
And cheer the lonely, wand’ring, helpless youth.
Each friendly aid conspir’d to ease his pain,