And I perceived no touch of change, No hint of death in all his frame,

But found him all in all the same, I should not feel it to be strange.

That rises upward always higher,
And onward drags a labouring breast,

And topples round the dreary west,
A looming bastion fringed with fire.

And made me that delirious man

Whose fancy fuses old and new,

And flashes into false and true,

And mingles all without a plan?