That all the rest creep in and form a junction, Like knots of vipers on a dunghill's soil, Rage, fear, hate, jealousy, revenge, compunction: So that all mischiefs spring up from this entrail, That, without any danger of a riot, he Might for long lying make himself amends; And, singing as he sung in his warm youth, Like earthquakes from the hidden fire Agree to a short armistice with truth. 725 730 Must we but weep o'er days more |