And stops the monarch's and plebeian's breath
With equal haste, and with the selfsame blow,
Had laid his icy hand upon his heart,
While bidding him in iron tones "depart!"
The lamp burnt lower, still his eye was fixed
Upon the parchment, while his trembling hand
Within a crucible the compound mixed,
With which completed he would soon command
Unending treasure, boundless glittering wealth,
The priceless draught of endless youth and health.