Soul and sense from death's drowse!
First Friend. And soul, wakened, unloads
Much sin by confession: no mere palinodes!
—"I was youthful and wanton, am old yet no sage:
When angry I cursed, struck and slew: did I want?
Right and left did I rob: though no war I dared wage
With the Church (God forbid!)—harm her least ministrant—
Still I outraged all else. Now that strength is grown scant,
"I am probity's self"—no such bleatings as these!
But avowal of guilt so enormous, it balks