What comes as direful as the direful night
A spirit spends in trouble?—fill’d with fears
That sleep may bring distressful nightmares now;
And now, that morn may come before we sleep;
Until, betwixt the two, distracted quite,
Awake one dreams, and dreaming seems awake,
And evermore does weep at what he dreams,
And then does weep that he should dream no more.
In darkest fancies all that night I lay,
A murderess, guilty of Doretta’s death.