This painful, pinched, and narrow life I have,
Which even now is ebbing fast away.
Nay, rather dost thou cause me dolour grave,
Since Death a second time, with bitter sway,
Will triumph over me in life and soul,
And gain a double palm, beyond control.
For he and others of the dismal band
Who do thy bidding, subject to thy spell,
Are raging round and round, and waiting stand,
Till I shall finish what I have to tell: