Nor venom-freighted quiver.
What though he winds his toilsome way
O’er regions wild and weary—
Through Zara’s burning desert stray,
Or Asia’s jungles dreary:
What though he plough the billowy deep
By lunar light, or solar,
Meet the resistless Simoon’s sweep,
Or iceberg circumpolar!
In bog or quagmire deep and dank