"The sad companion, dull-eye'd melancholy,
By me so us'd a guest is, not an hour,
In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night,
The tomb where grief should sleep, can breed me quiet."[272:A]
Affliction, however, of a more unequivocal kind soon assails him; he is shipwrecked on the coast of Greece, and compelled to solicit
support from the benevolence of some poor fishermen. His address to these honest creatures is truly pathetic:—
"Per. He asks of you, that never us'd to beg.—
What I have been, I have forgot to know;
But what I am, want teaches me to think on;
A man shrunk up with cold: my veins are chill,