I The Revenant

A tormented soul trapped in the abode of mortals, as a ghost, who once lived.

Caliginous, is my daunting chambre
Full of the drear desolation I detest,
Shading the window of idle dreams
Soften'd by drops of crestfallen rain.

A whistling birr of the storm ruffles
Those lonesome pages of my diary,
While I sit upon my throne of despair
So gaunt and with a torment'd guise.

The hollow echoes of the four walls
Of my imprisonment I curse mightily,
Till my ears have deafen'd in silence,
By a visible guilt of my lingering soul.

Where voices of mortals I heed nigh,
On the other side of these eerie halls,
As I am condemn'd to the underworld
Of reprobates enslav'd and wretch'd.

Those jovial songs of my past sound,
With a sombre quaff of my nepenthe,
As I shall be accompanied afterward,
By the horrid shadow of my isolation. 

I am forgotten with the lore of time,
Behind doors of oblivion ne'er open
Of an Orphelian mansion of Acheron,
As I the revenant, haunt the tenants.