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I am casting off my spells,
Setting loose my eerie wells,
Rifling the witch-land of Fancy—
Peopling, too, with shapes unchancy
The recesses of the dells.
Round the cauldron, at the linn,
I set haggard forms a-spin.
On the cairn that crowns the height
Blue fires shew at dead of night.

14

Breaking the cold grave-yard's calm,
In the yew-shade, at the gloaming,
I with charm of holy psalm,
Exorcise the spirits roaming.
Leering demons at my will
Peep out in the traveller's path:
Loiterers who provoke my wrath,
Shiver in the deadly chill,
Faces comic and grotesque
I delight to carve and fashion;
With the ugsome, the burlesque
To commingle, is my passion.
Goblin hunch-backs, full of frolic,
Hairy satyrs, grinning apes,
Urchins twisted with the cholic,
And a world of grisly shapes.
Out at night, I set adrift
These, the marvels of my craft,
When at speed with levelled shaft
Riding on the stormy lift,
Tilts the Moon Queen—vizor down
As the rebel clouds come surging
Sullenly with surly frown
Their unknightly chargers urging.