I wandered lonely wound in shroud
that floats beneath earth's vales and hills,
when all at once I saw a crowd
of [g]hosts departed Lethe fills;
amid hell-fire and brimstone frieze,
fluttering and dancing with damned wheeze.
Continuous as stars that shone
a'twinkling on far milky way,
etched wretch stretched endless, woebegone,
who sinned on margin, brought to bay.
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
bewailing fate, no second chance.
Shame's flames beside them danced; but they
cast lurid shadows. Souls once free
no poets praise, raise dead: dismay
sent shivers through dread company:
I gazed - and gazed - but little thought
that I'd been picked to share their sport.
Now as I in lost limbo lie
in vacant, pained, or pensive mood,
heaven dreams through an inward eye
some dream, deem, bliss of solitude;
But henceforth heart no pleasure knows,
as time flows timelessly, naught shows.
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