Gnashing his teeth in mood of furious ire
Fierce Persecution sat, and with strong breath
Wakes into living flame large heaps of fire,
And feasts on murders, massacres, and death.
Near him was plac'd Procrustes' iron bed
To stretch or mangle to a certain size;
To see their writhing pains each heart must bleed,
To hear their doleful shrieks and piercing cries;
Yet he beholds them with unmoistened eye,
Their writhing pains his sport, their moans his melody.