To one who darest contend mortal fate

Woe are my grev’ous sins before the fire

The screams of my vexed soul doth not abate

Leaving me forever trapped in the mire


My forsaken state is dismal as night

Many a foe doth lust for my vile bones

How far I have fled from my loathsome plight

Still their ad'mant banshee wails ever moan


These horrors I wish not to be prolonged

For one cannot bear torment all their life

But what ear will attend unto my song?

What good can beset my ignoble strife?


I fear no longer the fires of my scourge

I praise the tune of my delightful dirge



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