The wicked Soul, who had assum’d again

A form of sensible flesh, for his foul will,

Still bent on base revenge, and baffled still,

Felt that corporeal shape alike to pain

Obnoxious as to pleasure; forth he flew,

Howling and scorch’d by the devouring flame;

Accursed Spirit! still condemn’d to rue,

The act of sin and punishment the same.

Freed from his loathsome touch, a natural dread

Came on the self-devoted, and she drew

Back from the flames, which now toward her spread,

And, like a living monster, seem’d to dart

Their hungry tongues toward their shrinking prey.

Soon she subdued her heart;

O Father! she exclaim’d, there was no way

But this! and thou, Ereenia, who for me

Sufferest, my soul shall bear thee company.