The Suicide
50
Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
Wer't not a Shame---wer't not a Shame for him
In this clay carcase crippled to abide?

51
'Tis but a Tent where takes his one-day's rest
A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;
The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrásh
Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.

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