My face grew whiter than a sheet,
The dreadful blunder made me reel
And drop[21] the letter at my feet.
Instead of the fictitious name
He gave, it bore his own,
Which knowing not, he could not claim—
To him my lines were never known—
In loneliness he died: and here
I nurse the sick; but I have done—
And, sir[22] no longer have a fear