And, vent’ring in, I stood like one amaz’d
Such sights of horror on my heart-strings smit.
There Infidelity, in moody fit,
Hugg’d Suicide—there Rage, and deadly Fears,
There Lechery, with goatish leer did sit,
And Murder, quaffing up his victim’s tears,
With thousand other crimes, too foul for human ears.
IX.
In ’mid the house an image stood in state,
Like to Voltaire in visage and in shape,