drown’d in endless thoughts at evening’s close fain to accept this extant life as real and as i fell to fatigue’s cold repose black wells of sickness did my spirit steal weak hope calléd to seek a shred of worth in finding what was sought, no treasures lay powerless to turn ‘gainst constant hurt in vain to blindly grasp at pleasures fay to misery hath all travailings led ’tis true, new pains await at every turn only a fool would rise from ennui’s bed thus lie entombed, for all the world, a worm when failure’s count exceeds sands in the sea and victories hath ever prov’d empty