Toward me then turned It; and with baneful stare
Struck chill my mood defiant. Irked with thought,
Fear, and the lees of passion, sat I thus;
While the dim Spectre touched Its answer, wrought
Icily dolorous.
“I am Duty: I
Sway all the lot of man. His tentative life
Steps subtly to my measures; in fine deed
Is my attenuate speech:—at very strife
His tongue invokes mine arm. I ratify