Chapter IV

I broke my dungeon-sepulchre of dreams;
I climbed the winding stair to palace halls
Where all the air was soothed by incense-streams;
And every sight within those magic walls
Was bright with radiant, opalescent sheen
While lulling on the ear, light music falls
Of such a melody as ne'er has been
Unless by fays on fairy lyres played.
There Pleasure gowned in iridescent green,
Reclines upon her couch with gems inlaid,
And gently beckons with a sinuous arm--
But all the sumptuous excesses fade;
The walls seem dim; the music has no charm,
For Pleasure's Palace is a place of harm.