For if he was, from Pluto's Sable Plain,
Return'd to Earth,——He'd Ætna seek again.
'Tis hard to say, whether the Gloomy Clime,
Or Murder, Incest, or some heinous Crime,
Sends Building-Fiends, into the Madding World,
Govern'd by Frenzy; by Confusion hurl'd,
Seize all they meet; and——like the baited Bear,
Without Distinction, Range, and Rend, and Tear:
No one escapes them: from Lord O—r—d: down,
To B——s, and every errant Fool in Town: