But found it not,—no comfort reached his mind.
Each sense was palsied; when he tasted food,
He sigh'd and said, "Enough—'tis very good."
Since his dread sentence, nothing seem'd to be
As once it was—he seeing could not see,
Nor hearing, hear aright;—when first, I came
Within his view, I fancied there was shame,
I judged, resentment; I mistook the air—
240
These fainter passions live not with despair,