"It was a dreary night of November That I beheld the accomplished of my toils Remember that I am thy creature I ought to be thy adam But I am rather the fallen angel that now drivest enjoy for no misdeed everywhere I see bliss from which from which from which I alone, am irrevocably excluded I was benevolent and good misery made me a fiend make me happy and I, again shall be virtuous but soon he cried I shall die and what I now feel be no longer felt soon, these burning miseries will be extinct I shall ascend fume up higher triumphantly and exalt in the agony of the torturing flames my spirit will sleep in peace for if it thinks It will not surely think thus Farewell."