Is worthy of Admetus. I descend
To the dim shadowy regions of the dead
A guest more honour’d....
In thy presence here
Again I utter’d the tremendous vow,
Now more than half fulfill’d. I feel, I know,
Its dread effects. Through all my burning veins
Th’ insatiate fever revels. Doubt is o’er.
The Monarch of the Dead hath heard—he calls,
He summons me away—and thou art saved,