Awakes to comfort from thy callow thrall?
If Ill and Sorrow rear
Spectral athwart my eyes, and this hued cheek
Fall ashen like thine own, what then thy cheer,
Grim Apparition? what thy comfort then,
Dim Spectre? Hold tho’; have enough of this!
Fearless I ask again,
Art uttered of another; or art weak,
Continent in thyself? Comest thou with bliss
For largess? Else, declare thy peerless script,