A list he gets
Of claims and debts,
And deems nought done, while aught remains to do.
Yamen beheld, and wither'd at the sight;
Long had he aim'd the sunbeam to control,
For light was hateful to his soul:
'Go on!' cried the hellish one, yellow with spite;
'Go on!' cried the hellish one, yellow with spleen,
'Thy toils of the morning, like Ithaca's queen,