And many yers rolled on, and saw them striving
With unabated breath,
And other years still found and left them living,
And gave no hope of death.
Yet listen, hapless soul whom angels pity,
Craving a boon like this—
Mark how the dwellers in the wondrous city
Grew weary of their bliss.
One and another, who had been concealing
The pain of life's long thrall,