Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/220

 And shout in maddest mirth— These dull toys awed the earth!" Oh then, oh then, oh then, We hurry forth amain; For with such eldritch cries, Begin our revelries!

When the murderer's blanched corse Swings with a sighing hoarse From gibbet and from chain, As the bat sucks out his brain, And the owlet pecks his eyes, And the wild fox gnaws his thighs; While the raven croaks with glee, Lord of the dead man's tree; And rocked on that green skull, With sated look and dull, In gloomy pride looks o'er The waste and wildered moor, And dreams some other day Shall bring him fresher prey; When over bog and fen, To lure wayfaring men,