His head Feathered with crimson combs, and all his neck, And half-shut fans of his admired wings, That in their scaly splendor put to shame Or gold or stone, lay on his ivory couch And shivered; for the dragon suffered pain: He suffered and he feared. It was his doom, The tempter, that he never should depart From the bright creature that in Paradise He for his evil purpose erst possessed, Until it died. Thus only, spirit of might And chiefest spirit of ill, could he be free. But with its nature wed, as souls of men Are wedded to their clay, he took the dread Of death and dying, and the coward heart Of the beast, and craven terrors of the end Sank him that habited within it to dread Disunion. He, a dark dominion erst Rebellious, lay and trembled, for the flesh Daunted his immaterial. He was sick And sorry. Great ones of the earth had sent Their chief musicians for to comfort him, Chanting his praise, the friend of man, the god That gave them knowledge, at so great a price And costly. Yea, the riches of the mine, And glorious broidered work, and woven gold, And all things wisely made, they at his feet Laid daily; for they said, "This mighty one, All the world wonders after him. He lieth Sick in his dwelling; he hath long foregone (To do us good) dominion, and a throne, And his brave warfare with the Enemy, So much he pitieth us that were denied The gain and gladness of this knowledge. Now Shall he be certified of gratitude, And smell the sacrifice that most he loves."