With more than winter's and more poisonous cold
⁠The horror of his kingdom toward the north,
⁠The deserts of his kingdom toward the east.
And though death hide not in her direful hold
⁠Be all stars adverse toward her that come forth
⁠Nightly, by day all hours till all have ceased:

⁠Be summed of all the sumless curses told
⁠Out on his head by all dark seasons rolled
Over its cursed and crowned existence, dumb
And blind and stark as though the snows made numb
⁠All sense within it, and all conscience cold,
⁠That hangs round hearts of less imperial mould
Like a snake feeding till their doomsday come.