“Come, oh pale death.”      Indeed, one may ascribe this man no mere figment of horrid madness        For this man is still among the accursed, and his grave is still black marked.      Death is a lying wench, but it bears a man’s name. And in fact, his grave has long been marked. And of that matter the godly man knew very well.       In the dim, moonlit fields of night, there became a melodious ensemble among the trees.          A song, one might say, bu