Nor did he wait till to his door,
The voice of supplication came, but went abroad
With foot as silent as the starry dews,
In search of misery that pined unseen,
And would not ask. And who can tell what sights
She saw, what groans she heard in that cold world
Below, where sin in league with gloomy death,
March daily through the length and breadth of all
The land, wasting at will and making earth,
Fair earth! a lazer-house, a dungeon dark!