Him the dog of darkness spied,
His shaggy throat he open’d wide,
While from his jaws, with carnage fill’d,
Foam and human gore distill’d:
Hoarse he bays with hideous din,
Eyes that glow, and fangs that grin;
And long pursues, with fruitless yell,
The father of the powerful spell ...
which Collins, at his best even surer than Gray in prophecy of a new age, could match with—
Whilst Vengeance, in the lurid air,