"King: Oh! my dear Máthavya, Was it a dream? or did some magic dire, Dulling my senses with a strange delusion, O'ercome my spirit? or did destiny, Jealous of my good actions, mar their fruit, And rob me of their guerdon? It is past, Whate'er the spell that bound me. Once again Am I awake, but only to behold The precipice o'er which my hopes have fallen."