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Updated: May 27, 2025
The trumpets sound, when from the Stygian shade Wild Discord raises her disorder'd head; From whose swoln eyes there ran a briny flood, And blood congeal'd otre all her visage stood; Her hideous rows of brazen teeth were furr'd, A filthy gore there issu'd from her tongue, With snaky locks her guarded head was hung; Rent and divided did her garb betray The image of the breast on which it lay; And brandisht flames her trembling hand obey.
You have defil'd with blood my cell, that to this day had been inviolate. You have done that, for which, if any's so malicious, he may expel me my office." She said, and trembling, rends her aged hairs, And both her cheeks with wilder fury tears: Sad murmurs from her troubl'd breast arise, A shower of tears there issu'd from her eyes.
Y. M. All pious thoughts that lately fild this spheare Are scatterd with the winds that issu'd from thee, Which, like the infectious yawning of a hill, Belching forth death inevitable, Has distroyd freindship and nature in me. Thou canst not poyson worse: I can feed now, Feed and nere burst with mallice.
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