That thou wilt still remember Roderick’s name.
Roderick so long had to this hour look’d on,
That when the actual point of trial came,
Torpid and numb’d it found him; cold he grew,
And as the vital spirits to the heart
Retreated, o’er his wither’d countenance,
Deathy and damp, a whiter paleness spread.
Unmoved the while, the inward feeling seem’d,
Even in such dull insensibility
As gradual age brings on, or slow disease,