TEMPLE OF DEATH

In those cold climates where the sun appears

Unwillingly, andhides his face in tears,

A dreadful Vale lies in a désert isle,

On which indulgent Heav'n did never smile.

There a thick grove of ag'd cypress's trees ,

Which none without an awful horror sees,

Into its wither*d arms depriv*d of leaves

Whole flocks of ill-presaging birds receives.

Poisons are ail the plants the soil will bear,

And winter is the only season there.

MilUons of graves cover the spacious fleld ,

And springs of blood a thousand rivers yield ,

Whose streams oppress*d with carcasses and bones,

Instead of gentle murmurs, pour forth groans.

Within this Vale a famous Temple stands,

Old as the world itself which it commands.

Round is its figure, and four iron gâtes

Divide Mankind. By order of the fates ,

There corne in crowds, doom'd to one common grave,

The young, the old, the monarch, and the slave.

Old âge and pains which Mankind most deploi*es

Are faithful keepers of those sacred doors :

AU clad in mournful blacks, which also load

The sacred walls of this obscure abode ;

And tapers of a pitchy substance made,

With clouds of smoke, increase the dismal shade.

A monster void of reason and of sight,

The goddess who sways this realm of night ,

Her power extends o'er ail things that hâve breath,

A cruel tyrant, and her name is Death.