Oft feels a sadness unaccountable,
An ominous warning of some coming ill,
From which it shudd’ring turns, and tries t’ escape,
But turns and tries in vain—for boldly still
Th’ unwelcome, horrid fantasies will creep
Before his mental eye, in many a fearful shape.
XIX.
I cannot shake it off—this heartfelt pain!
Thou know’st, O God! what lines are writ for me;
Whatever comes, I will not dare complain.