XXXVIII.

Thrice howl'd the caves of Night, and thrice the sound, Thundring upon the bankes of those black lakes, Rung through the hollow vaults of Hell profound: At last her listning eares the noise o're takes, She lifts her sooty lampes, and looking round, A gen'rall hisse from the whole tire of snakes Rebounding, through Hell's inmost cavernes came, In answer to her formidable name.