But a deaf noise of sounds that never cease;
Confus'd and chiding, like the hollow roar
Of tides, receding from th' insulted shore;
Or like the broken thunder heard from far,
When Jove to distance drives the rolling war.
The courts are fill'd with a tumultuous din,
Of crouds, or issuing forth, or ent'ring in:
A thorough-fare of news; where some devise
Things never heard, some mingle truth with lies:
The troubled air with empty sounds they beat,