Rous’d by the flames that fir’d her seats around, 590
Th’ infected country rush’d into the town.
Some, sad at home, and in the desart some,
Abjur’d the fatal commerce of mankind;
In vain: where’er they fled the Fates pursued.
Others, with hopes more specious, cross’d the main, 595
To seek protection in far-distant skies;
But none they found. It seem’d the general air
Was then at enmity with English blood.
For, but the race of England, all were safe