When Darkness sits as Regent of the Skies,
And round my Bed redoubled Horrors rise,
Till Night grows hideous with my constant Cries:
My tortur'd Limbs with ceaseless Pangs are torn,
But yet I live to see returning Morn:
The piercing Sun thrusts in a spiteful Ray,
To wound my Eyelids with unwelcome Day.