And shout of Ambush, castigates the Night.—
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And hence the Spirits from th' Abyss of Hell,
That prey upon Mankind.—Eugenio, give
Thy Soul's pure Eye, that sees immortal things,
To the grim Spectres hovering in the Air,
And we will mark the dreary Train that vex
The mortal Man, and ride with ghostly pomp,
Frowning upon the Midnight's murky Wing.—
And who is he, from yonder antient roof,