When Terror reigns in fullest power, When, as the learn'd of old have said, The yawning Grave gives up her dead; When Murder, Rapine by her side, Stalks o'er the earth with giant stride; Our Quixotes (for that knight of old Was not in truth by half so bold, 700 Though Reason at the same time cries, 'Our Quixotes are not half so wise,' Since they, with other follies, boast An expedition 'gainst a ghost) Through the dull deep surrounding gloom, In close array, towards Fanny's tomb[214] Adventured forth; Caution before, With heedful step, the lantern bore, Pointing at graves; and in the rear, Trembling, and talking loud, went Fear. 710 The churchyard teem'd--the unsettled ground, As in an ague, shook around; While, in some dreary vault confined, Or riding on the hollow wind, Horror, which turns the heart to stone, In dreadful sounds was heard to groan. All staring, wild, and out of breath, At length they reach the place of Death. A vault it was, long time applied To hold the last remains of Pride: 720 No beggar there, of humble race, And humble fortunes, finds a place; To rest in pomp as well as ease, The only way's to pay the fees. Fools, rogues, and whores, if rich and great, Proud even in death, here rot in state. No thieves disrobe the well-dress'd dead; No plumbers steal the sacred lead; Quiet and safe the bodies lie; No sextons sell, no surgeons buy. 730 Thrice, each the ponderous key applied, And thrice to turn it vainly tried, Till taught by Prudence to unite, And straining with collected might, The stubborn wards resist no more, But open flies the growling door. Three paces back they fell amazed, Like statues stood, like madmen gazed; The frighted blood forsakes the face, And seeks the heart with quicker pace; 740 The throbbing heart its fear declares, And upright stand the bristled hairs; The head in wild distraction swims, Cold sweats bedew the trembling limbs; Nature, whilst fears her bosom chill, Suspends her powers, and life stands still. Thus had they stood till now; but Shame (An useful, though neglected dame, By Heaven design'd the friend of man, Though we degrade her all we can, 750 And strive, as our first proof of wit, Her name and nature to forget) Came to their aid in happy hour, And with a wand of mighty power Struck on their hearts; vain fears subside, And, baffled, leave the field to Pride. Shall they, (forbid it, Fame!) shall they The dictates of vile Pear obey? Shall they, the idols of the Town, To bugbears, fancy-form'd, bow down? 760 Shall they, who greatest zeal express'd, And undertook for all the rest, Whose matchless courage all admire, Inglorious from the task retire? How would the wicked ones rejoice, And infidels exalt their voice, If Moore and Plausible were found,