Dol. As one who lives but sleeps; no change to move
The doubts of him who sees, yet nothing knows,
Of that sly, subtle enemy, which still
Keeps harbor round her heart. Charmian, her maid,
Had, ere I entered, lidded up the eyes,
That had no longer office; and she lay,
With each sweet feature harmonizing still
As truly with the nature as at first,
When Beauty’s wide-world wonder she went forth
Spelling both art and worship! Never did sleep