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Lettered: "6 | IV. | The eternal gates' terrific porter lifted the northern bar: Thel enter'd in and saw the secrets of the land unknown. She saw the couches of the dead, and where the fibrous roots Of every heart on earth infixes deep its restless twists: A land of sorrows and of tears where never smile was seen. | She wanderd in the land of clouds thro' valleys dark, listning Dolours & lamentations; waiting oft beside a dewy grave She stood in silence, listning to the voices of the ground, Till to her own grave plot she came, and there she sat down, And heard this voice of sorrow breathed from the hollow pit. | Why cannot the Ear be closed to its own destruction? Or the glist'ning Eye to the poison of a smile? Why are Eyelids stor'd with arrows ready drawn, Where a thousand fighting men in ambush lie? Or an Eye of gifts and graces show'ring fruits and coined gold! | Why a Tongue impress'd with honey from every wind? Why an Ear, a whirlpool fierce to draw creations in? Why a Nostril wide inhaling terror, trembling, and affright? Why a tender curb upon the youthful burning boy! Why a little curtain of flesh on the bed of our desire? The Virgin started from her seat, and with a shriek Fled back unhinder'd till she came into the vales of Har. | The End"