Chapter VII

And yet I am condemned to live, to be.
What horrid Fate decreed it? Life is blind,
And cannot see the Truth. Oh, but for me
To know, to solve this riddle of the mind!
And yet no whisper through the age's gloom
Has taught the latent answer that I pined;
And finally in a sombre-tinted room,
I sank in languor on the marble floor,
And faintly wondered at my destined doom.
Upon my weary spirit, came once more
A faint remembrance of a former time,
A faint remembrance, I had known before,
That clung about me like an ancient rime:
Death is to the soul but a change of clime.