And grief and thought and feeling were no more:
Although revived, I judged that life would close,
And went to rest, to wonder that I rose:
My dreams were dismal, - wheresoe’er I stray’d,
I seem’d ashamed, alarm’d, despised, betray’d;
Always in grief, in guilt, disgraced, forlorn,
Mourning that one so weak, so vile, was born;
The earth a desert, tumult in the sea,
The birds affrighten’d fled from tree to tree,
Obscured the setting sun, and every thing like me.