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Israel In Egypt. Book Eleventh.

All night, that beauteous vision of the day,--
In dreams intense, by subtle demon wrought,--
Vivid as life, to the eye of Sethos moved,
Stirring to yet worse madness: for, not now,
As in his waking hours, the loveliness,
The beauty exquisite, the matchless grace,
Alone inflamed him; but desires impure,
Thoughts carnal, images foul, that even to heat
Of fierce delirium fired him. Waking, he raved,
Cursing the unreal: sleeping, dreams again
The real seemed; the waking, a bad dream.
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