Like flying shades before the clouds we show,
And shrink like parchment in consuming flame.
267.
"O let it be enough what thou hast done;
When spotted deaths ran arm'd through every street,
With poisoned darts, which not the good could shun,
The speedy could out-fly, or valiant meet.[189]
268.
"The living few, and frequent funerals then,
Proclaimed thy wrath on this forsaken place;