"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,