Fierce coughs will teize you, hoarseness bind your voice,
Or moist Gravedo load your aching brows.
These to defy, and all the fates that dwell 320
In cloister’d air tainted with steaming life,
Let lofty ceilings grace your ample rooms;
And still at azure noontide may your dome
At every window drink the liquid sky.
Need we the sunny situation here, 325
And theatres open to the south, commend?
Here, where the morning’s misty breath infests