Still Paying, Still To Owe. Eternal Woe!

Demoniac Frenzy, Moping Melancholy.

For So I Created Them Free And Free They Must Remain.

Of Calling Shapes, And Beck'ning Shadows Dire, And Airy Tongues That Syllable Men's Names.

And Sing To Those That Hold The Vital Shears; And Turn The Adamantine Spindle Round, On Which The Fate Of Gods And Men Is Wound.

Dark With Excessive Bright.