Or this same slipper mock’d my sleep.’
‘The slipper which I have before me,
The slipper it bespeaks no good:
Who could think that she could slumber
In so pure and gentle mood.’
Wild the doubts that rise within him:
—‘Help me Heaven! with guiding light,
Baffling madness louring round
Forbids me see my path aright.
Oh! my vineyard so well guarded!