The dust flies smothering, as on clatt'ring wheel

Loath'd Aristocracy careers along; The distant track quick vibrates to the eye, And white and dazzling undulates with heat, Where scorching to the unwary traveller's touch, The stone fence flings its narrow slip of shade; Or, where the worn sides of the chalky road Yield their scant excavations (sultry grots!), Emblem of languid patience, we behold The fleecy files faint-ruminating lie.

1794.