In durance strict detain him till, in form Of money, Pallas sets the captive free. Beware, ye debtors, when ye walk, beware! Be circumspect; oft with insidious ken This caitiff eyes your steps aloof, and oft Lies perdue in a nook or gloomy cave, Prompt to enchant some inadvertent wretch With his unhallow'd touch. So, poets sing, Grimalkin to domestic vermin sworn An everlasting foe, with watchful eye Lies nightly brooding o'er a chinky gap, Protending her fell claws, to thoughtless mice Sure ruin. So her disembowell'd web Arachne in a hall, or kitchen, spreads, Obvious to vagrant flies: she secret stands Within her woven cell; the humming prey, Regardless of their fate, rush on the toils Inextricable, nor will aught avail Their arts, or arms, or shapes of lovely hue; The wasp insidious, and the buzzing drone, And butterfly proud of expanded wings Distinct with gold, entangled in her snares, Useless resistance make: with eager strides, She tow'ring flies to her expected spoils; Then, with envenom'd jaws the vital blood Drinks of reluctant foes, and to her cave Their bulky carcasses triumphant drags. So pass my days. But when nocturnal shades This world envelop, and th' inclement air Persuades men to repel benumbing frosts With pleasant wines, and crackling blaze of wood; Me, lonely sitting, nor the glimmering light Of make-weight candle, nor the joyous talk Of loving friend delights; distress'd, forlorn, Amidst the horrors of the tedious night, Darkling I sigh, and feed with dismal thoughts My anxious mind, or sometimes mournful verse Indite, and sing of groves and myrtle shades, Or desp'rate lady near a purling stream, Or lover pendant on a willow-tree. Meanwhile I labour with eternal drought, And restless wish, and rave, my parchéd throat Finds no relief, nor heavy eyes repose: But if a slumber haply does invade My weary limbs, my fancy's still awake, Thoughtful of drink, and eager, in a dream, Tipples imaginary pots of ale, In vain; awake I find the settled thirst Still gnawing, and the pleasant phantom curse. Thus do I live, from pleasure quite debarr'd, Nor taste the fruits that the sun's genial rays Mature, John Apple, nor the downy Peach, Nor Walnut in rough-furrow'd coat secure, Nor Medlar fruit delicious in decay: Afflictions great! yet greater still remains. My Galligaskins that have long withstood The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts, By time subdu'd, what will not time subdue! An horrid chasm disclos'd with orifice Wide, discontinuous; at which the winds Eurus and Auster, and the dreadful force Of Boreas, that congeals the Cronian waves, Tumultuous enter with dire chilling blasts, Portending agues. Thus a well-fraught ship, Long sail'd secure, or thro' th' Ægean deep,