Chapter X

And yet, there is a torturing sense of life,
E'en in the feeling of the quick drawn breath,
That tells of many years of woe and strife,
Ekeing our being out, though bringing death:
While Fancy, with a thousand thronging tales,
Now in her gladness, now in woe, prevails,--
Till the dark moment of o'erwhelming grief,
When sorrow mourns as one who cannot find relief.