The indignant Bard composed this furious ode,
As tired he dragg'd his way thro' Plimtree road!
       &nbsp       &nbspCrusted with filth and stuck in mire
       &nbsp       &nbspDull sounds the Bard's bemudded lyre;
       &nbsp       &nbspNathless Revenge and Ire the Poet goad
       &nbsp       &nbspTo pour his imprecations on the road.


       &nbsp       &nbspCurst road! whose execrable way
       &nbsp       &nbspWas darkly shadow'd out in Milton's lay,
       &nbsp       &nbspWhen the sad fiends thro' Hell's sulphureous roads
       &nbsp       &nbspTook the first survey of their new abodes;
       &nbsp       &nbspOr when the fall'n Archangel fierce
       &nbsp       &nbspDar'd through the realms of Night to pierce,
       &nbsp       &nbspWhat time the Bloodhound lur'd by Human scent
       &nbsp       &nbspThro' all Confusion's quagmires floundering went.


Nor cheering pipe, nor Bird's shrill note
Around thy dreary paths shall float;
Their boding songs shall scritch-owls pour
To fright the guilty shepherds sore,
Led by the wandering fires astray
Thro' the dank horrors of thy way!
While they their mud-lost sandals hunt
May all the curses, which they grunt
In raging moan like goaded hog,
Alight upon thee, damnéd Bog!