I was fearful to list for the fateful rest
Of the Song of Death—the dirge they sang—
That ne’er had been learned by mortal man.
So grasping the banister lest I fell,
Madly I shouted: “Hail, Jans of Hell!
Servants of Iblees! Peace where ye dwell!
Ye chanters of songs that none may tell,
Ye who shun the light of God’s good day,
Answer me! set me on my way
Down these labyrinth corridors of this Tomb of fire;