And o'er his head flew jealousies and cares, Ghosts, imps, and half the black Tartarian crew, Arch-angels damn'd, nor was their Prince remote, Borne on the vaporous wings of Stygian dew. 27 Around his bed, by the dull flambeaux' glare, 105 I saw pale phantoms--Rage to madness vext, Wan, wasting grief, and ever musing care, Distressful pain, and poverty perplext. 28 Sad was his countenance, if we can call That countenance, where only bones were seen 110 And eyes sunk in their sockets, dark and low, And teeth, that only show'd themselves to grin. 29 Reft was his scull of hair, and no fresh bloom Of chearful mirth sate on his visage hoar: Sometimes he rais'd his head, while deep-drawn groans 115 Were mixt with words that did his fate deplore. 30 Oft did he wish to see the daylight spring, And often toward the window lean'd to hear, Fore-runner of the scarlet-mantled morn, The early note of wakeful Chanticleer. 120 31 Thus he--But at my hand a portly youth Of comely countenance, began to tell, "That this was Death upon his dying bed, "Sullen, morose, and peevish to be well; 32 "Fixt is his doom--the miscreant reigns no more 125 "The tyrant of the dying or the dead; "This night concludes his all-consuming reign, "Pour out, ye heav'ns, your vengeance on his head. 33 "But since, my friend (said he), chance leads you here, "With me this night upon the sick attend, 130 "You on this bed of death must watch, and I "Will not be distant from the fretful fiend. 34 "Before he made this lofty pile his home, "In undisturb'd repose I sweetly slept, "But when he came to this sequester'd dome, 135 "'Twas then my troubles came, and then I wept: 35 "Twice three long nights, in this sad chamber, I, "As though a brother languish'd in despair, "Have 'tended faithful round his gloomy bed, "Have been content to breathe this loathsome air. 140 36 "A while relieve the languors that I feel, "Sleep's magic forces close my weary eyes; "Soft o'er my soul unwonted slumbers steal, "Aid the weak patient till you see me rise. 37 "But let no slumbers on your eye-lids fall, 145 "That if he ask for powder or for pill "You may be ready at the word to start, "And still seem anxious to perform his will. 38 "The bleeding Saviour of a world undone "Bade thy compassion rise toward thy foe; 150 "Then, stranger, for the sake of Mary's son, "Thy tears of pity on this wretch bestow. 39 "'Twas he that stole from my adoring arms "Aspasia, she the loveliest of her kind, "Lucretia's virtue, with a Helen's charms, 155 "Charms of the face, and beauties of the mind. 40