Ah, wretched! flits my labouring breath.
My tongue is palsied. Subtly hid
Fire creeps me through from limb to limb:
My loud ears tingle all unbid:
Twin clouds of night mine eyes bedim.
and recently by the late Sir R. F. Burton:—
Peer of a god meseemeth he,
Nay, passing gods (an that can be!),
Who all the while sits facing thee,
Sees thee and hears