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497

900.

[How dire the ball, the feast]

She . . . said unto her mother, What shall I ask? &c. —vi. 24, 25.

How dire the ball, the feast,
By its effects we find!
Passion it wakes in Herod's breast,
And strikes his judgment blind;
It stirs the vengeful rage
Of the adulterous brood,
And helps a damsel's tender age
To shed a prophet's blood.
The sacrilegious three
Become in murder one,
And all the silent guests agree
To make the crime their own:
And who approve their deed
May still with frantic zeal
For innocent diversions plead,
And dance, like them, to hell.