Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
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Conscience. (Evil.)
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Conscience. (Evil.)
See Guilt.
He that commits a Sin, shall quickly findThe pressing Guilt lie heavy on his Mind:
Tho' Bribes or Favour should assert his Cause,
Pronounce him guiltless, and elude the Laws:
None quits himself: his own impartial Thought
Will damn, and Conscience will record the Fault.—
But why must those be thought to 'scape, who feel
Those Rods of Scorpions, and those Whips of Steel
Which Conscience shakes, when she with Rage controuls,
And spreads amazing Terrors thro' their Souls.—
Nor sharp Revenge, nor Hell itself can find
A fiercer Torment than a guilty Mind:
Which Day and Night doth dreadfully accuse,
The Wretch condemns, and still the Charge renews.—
Sleep flies the Wretch: or when with Cares opprest,
His oft turn'd Limbs are weary'd into Rest,
Then Dreams invade, the injur'd Gods appear,
All arm'd with Thunder, and awake his Fear.
His oft turn'd Limbs are weary'd into Rest,
Then Dreams invade, the injur'd Gods appear,
All arm'd with Thunder, and awake his Fear.
Such Wretches start at ev'ry Flash that flies,
Grow pale at the first Murmur of the Skies,
E'er Clouds are form'd, and Thunder roars, afraid.—
Ev'n Here, on Earth, the Guilty have in view
Grow pale at the first Murmur of the Skies,
E'er Clouds are form'd, and Thunder roars, afraid.—
The mighty Pains to mighty Mischiefs due:
Racks, Prisons, Poisons, the Tarpeian Rock,
Stripes, Hangmen, Pitch, and suffocating Smoak,
And last, and most, if these were cast behind,
Th' avenging Horrors of a conscious Mind:
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And sees no End of Punishment and Woe:
But looks for more, at the last Gasp of Breath:—
This makes a Hell on Earth, and Life a Death.—
Each as his Hands in Guilt have been embrew'd,
By hellish Horror ever is pursu'd.
Ah! who can tell those agonizing Pains,
Which Day and Night the guilty Mind sustains!
Vengeance, with all her dreadful Pomp, attends:
To Wheels she binds him, and with Vultures rends,
With Racks of Conscience, and with Whips of Fiends.—
So raving Pentheus Troops of Furies sees,
Two Suns, and double Thebes: So mad with Guilt
Orestes, agitated on the Stage,
Flies from his Mother's Ghost with Torches arm'd,
And black infernal Snakes: revengeful Fiends
Sit in the Doors, and intercept his Flight.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |