With woes resistless and enfeebling fear; 610
Passive they sunk beneath the weighty blow.
Nothing but lamentable sounds was heard,
Nor ought was seen but ghastly views of death;
Infectious horror ran from face to face,
And pale despair. ’Twas all the business then 615
To tend the sick, and in their turns to die.
In heaps they fell: And oft one bed, they say,
The sickening, dying, and the dead contain’d.
Ye guardian Gods, on whom the Fates depend