At once give each inquietude the slip,
By stealing out of being when he pleased,
And by what way; whether by hemp or steel:
Death’s thousand doors stand open.
Blair, “The Grave.”
Her cheek [the Sultana Gulbeyaz] began to flush, her eyes to sparkle,
And her proud brow’s blue veins to swell and darkle;
She stood a moment as a Pythoness
Stands on her tripod, agonized, and full
Of inspiration gathered from distress.