Wrapt in the gloom of uncreated night
Secure we slept in senseless matter's arms,
Nor pain could vex, nor pallid fear affright,
Our quiet fancy felt no dream's alarms.
Soon as to life our animated clay
Awakes, and conscious being opes our eyes,
Care's fretful family at once dismay,
With ghastly air a thousand phantoms rise,
Sad  hangs o'er all the deep'ning gloom,
prompts the labour'd sigh,  opes the marble tomb.