Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 1, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/222

170 One after one by the horned Moon

(Listen, O Stranger! to me)

Each turn'd his face with a ghastly pang

And curs'd me with his ee.

Four times fifty living men,

With never a sigh or groan,

With heavy thump, a lifeless lump

They dropp'd down one by one.

Their souls did from their bodies fly,—

They fled to bliss or woe;

And every soul it pass'd me by,

Like the whiz of my Cross-bow.