From realm to realm, with cross or crescent crown’d,
        Where’er Mankind and Misery are found,
445 O’er burning sands, deep waves, or wilds of snow,
        Thy HOWARD journeying seeks the house of woe. 
        Down many a winding step to dungeons dank,
        Where anguish wails aloud, and fetters clank;
        To caves bestrew’d with many a mouldering bone,
450 And cells, whose echoes only learn to groan;
        Where no kind bars a whispering friend disclose,
        No sunbeam enters, and no zephyr blows,
        HE treads, inemulous of fame or wealth,
        Profuse of toil, and prodigal of health;
455 With soft assuasive eloquence expands
        Power’s rigid heart, and opes his clenching hands;
        Leads stern-ey’d Justice to the dark domains,
        If not to fever, to relax the chains;
        Or guides awaken’d Mercy through the gloom,
460 And shews the prison, sister to the tomb!—­
        Gives to her babes the self-devoted wife,
        To her fond husband liberty and life!—­
        —­The Spirits of the Good, who bend from high
        Wide o’er these earthly scenes their partial eye,
465 When first, array’d in VIRTUE’S purest robe,
        They saw her HOWARD traversing the globe;
        Saw round his brows her sun-like Glory blaze
        In arrowy circles of unwearied rays;
        Mistook a Mortal for an Angel-Guest,
470 And ask’d what Seraph-foot the earth imprest. 
        —­Onward he moves!—­Disease and Death retire,
        And murmuring Demons hate him, and admire.”

        Here paused the Goddess,—­on HYGEIA’S shrine
        Obsequious Gnomes repose the lyre divine;
475 Descending Sylphs relax the trembling strings,
        And catch the rain-drops on their shadowy wings. 
        —­And now her vase a modest Naiad fills
        With liquid crystal from her pebbly rills;
        Piles the dry cedar round her silver urn,
480 (Bright climbs the blaze, the crackling faggots burn),
        Culls the green herb of China’s envy’d bowers,
        In gaudy cups the steamy treasure pours;
        And, sweetly-smiling, on her bended knee
        Presents the fragrant quintessence of Tea.

 INTERLUDE II.

Bookseller. The monsters of your Botanic Garden are as surprising as the bulls with brazen feet, and the fire-breathing dragons, which guarded the Hesperian fruit; yet are they not disgusting, nor mischievous:  and in the manner you have chained them together in your exhibition, they succeed each other amusingly enough, like prints of the London Cries, wrapped upon rollers, with a glass before them.  In this at least they resemble the monsters in Ovid’s Metamorphoses; but your similies, I suppose, are Homeric?

Poet. The great Bard well understood how to make use of this kind of ornament in Epic Poetry.  He brings his valiant heroes into the field with much parade, and sets them a fighting with great fury; and then, after a few thrusts and parries, he introduces a long string of similies.  During this the battle is supposed to continue; and thus the time necessary for the action is gained in our imaginations; and a degree of probability produced, which contributes to the temporary deception or reverie of the reader.