Legions of Pleasures around me upstart,
Licentiousness pointing the way.
“Prayer from the wicked availeth not, friend:”
She placeth a curse in mine eye;
“Heaven nor Hell is thy destine or end:”
She speareth my soul with the lie.
“The sun shineth not; the moon and stars grope:”
Night, sable-robed, doth upstart;
“Love ruleth not, nor Pity, nor Hope:”
Hissing-tongued Hate gnaws my heart.