The Plague of Athens, which hapned in the second year of the Peloponnesian Warre · Thomas Sprat
XXXI.
But what, Great Gods! was worst of all, Hell forth its magazines of Lusts did call, Nor would it be content With the thick troops of souls were thither sent; Into the upper world it went, Such guilt, such wickedness, Such irreligion did increase, That the few good who did survive, Were angry with the Plague for suffring them to live, More for the living than the dead did grieve: Some robb’d the very dead, Though sure to be infected ere they fled, Though in the very Air sure to be punished. Some nor the shrines nor temples spar’d, Nor Gods, nor Heavens fear’d, Though such examples of their power appear’d. Vertue was now esteem’d an empty name, And honesty the foolish voice of fame; For having pass’d those tort’ring flames before, They thought the punishment already o’re, Thought Heaven no worse torments had in store, Here having felt one Hell, they thought there was no more.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.