Swarm thro’ the shuddering air: whatever plagues
Or meagre famine breeds, or with slow wings
Rise from the putrid watry element, 20
The damp waste forest, motionless and rank,
That smothers earth and all the breathless winds,
Or the vile carnage of th’ inhuman field;
Whatever baneful breathes the rotten south;
Whatever ills th’ extremes or sudden change 25
Of cold and hot, or moist and dry produce;
They fly thy pure effulgence: they, and all