Page:Betelguese, a trip through hell.djvu/36

28 Pierce sylvan airs that wizards bless.

Come from sequesteréd shoals of hell

Blithe pixies and lithe naiads fair

That revel till the ev'ning skies

Grow lustrous as Arcadian noon.

Then witches in an implex dell,

With stranggling robes and burnished hair,

Flee thro' Autumnal shades and dyes,

While quickly from the sandaléd gloom,

That struggles at the pillaréd light,

Provoked by turbid drops of blood,

She gleams upon a tower'd home

That gyving hands, of crafty imps,

Reared for the Vandals of the night,

Where seething pores froth devils' flood,

And dusky shales leak scarlet foam,

Or lightly lifts her feet and skimps

Unto a rubic, boweréd vale,

To list unto a clanging bell

That spells these signs to startléd wrecks,— Titan's satellites. Hell and Circe!