VIII

Within the twilight chamber spreads apace

      The shadow of white Death, and at the door

      Invisible Corruption waits to trace

      His extreme way to her dim dwelling-place;

      The eternal Hunger sits, but pity and awe

      Soothe her pale rage, nor dares she to deface

      So fair a prey, till darkness, and the law

Of change, shall o'er his sleep the mortal curtain draw.