The greater such a joy, the more it pains.
A world, so far from great, (and yet how great
It shines to thee!) there’s nothing real in it; 960
Being, a shadow; consciousness, a dream!
A dream, how dreadful! universal blank
Before it, and behind! Poor man, a spark
From non-existence struck by wrath divine,
Glittering a moment, nor that moment sure,
’Midst upper, nether, and surrounding night,
His sad, sure, sudden, and eternal tomb!