LXVI.

 I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
 Some letter of that After-life to spell:
   And by and by my Soul return'd to me,
 And answer'd "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell:"


LXVII.

 Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
 And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fire,
   Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
 So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.


LXVIII.

 We are no other than a moving row
 Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go
   Round with the Sun-illumined Lantern held
 In Midnight by the Master of the Show;


LXIX.

 But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays
 Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days;
   Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays,
 And one by one back in the Closet lays.


LXX.

 The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes,
 But Here or There as strikes the Player goes;
   And He that toss'd you down into the Field,
 He knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!