Rankling inflames, he bites the ground and dies. Hence to the village with pernicious haste Baleful he bends his course: the village flies Alarmed; the tender mother in her arms Hugs close the trembling babe; the doors are barred, And flying curs, by native instinct taught, Shun the contagious bane; the rustic bands _260 Hurry to arms, the rude militia seize Whate'er at hand they find; clubs, forks, or guns From every quarter charge the furious foe, In wild disorder, and uncouth array: Till now with wounds on wounds oppressed and gored, At one short poisonous gasp he breathes his last. Hence to the kennel, Muse, return, and view With heavy heart that hospital of woe: Where Horror stalks at large; insatiate Death Sits growling o'er his prey: each hour presents _270 A different scene of ruin and distress. How busy art thou, Fate! and how severe Thy pointed wrath! the dying and the dead Promiscuous lie; o'er these the living fight In one eternal broil; not conscious why, Nor yet with whom. So drunkards in their cups, Spare not their friends, while senseless squabble reigns. Huntsman! it much behoves thee to avoid The perilous debate! Ah! rouse up all Thy vigilance, and tread the treacherous ground _280 With careful step. Thy fires unquenched preserve, As erst the vestal flame; the pointed steel In the hot embers hide; and if surprised Thou feel'st the deadly bite, quick urge it home Into the recent sore, and cauterise The wound; spare not thy flesh, nor dread the event: Vulcan shall save when Aesculapius fails. Here, should the knowing Muse recount the means To stop this growing plague. And here, alas! Each hand presents a sovereign cure, and boasts _290 Infallibility, but boasts in vain. On this depend, each to his separate seat Confine, in fetters bound; give each his mess Apart, his range in open air; and then If deadly symptoms to thy grief appear, Devote the wretch, and let him greatly fall, A generous victim for the public weal. Sing, philosophic Muse, the dire effects Of this contagious bite on hapless man. The rustic swains, by long tradition taught _300 Of leeches old, as soon as they perceive The bite impressed, to the sea-coasts repair. Plunged in the briny flood, the unhappy youth Now journeys home secure; but soon shall wish The seas as yet had covered him beneath The foaming surge, full many a fathom deep. A fate more dismal, and superior ills Hang o'er his head devoted. When the moon, Closing her monthly round, returns again To glad the night; or when full orbed she shines _310 High in the vault of heaven; the lurking pest Begins the dire assault. The poisonous foam, Through the deep wound instilled with hostile rage, And all its fiery particles saline, Invades the arterial fluid; whose red waves Tempestuous heave, and their cohesion broke, Fermenting boil; intestine war ensues,