Stung by the furies, works with poisoned thought! 410
While pale and monstrous painting shocks the soul;
And mangled consciousness bemoans itself
For ever torn; and chaos floating round.
What dreams presage, what dangers these or those
Portend to sanity, tho’ prudent seers 415
Reveal’d of old, and men of deathless fame;
We would not to the superstitious mind
Suggest new throbs, new vanities of fear.
’Tis ours to teach you from the peaceful night