But swift indeed is the spirit's speed
To the glory of day, or the darkness of night!
Who knocks at the brazen gate? A fare
By the ferryman row'd to the gulf of despair!
With hissing snakes twisted into a thong,
(“I drove you on earth, I drive you below,
Gee up! gee up! old Judas, gee ho!”)
A furious crone whipp'd a spirit along!—
Her blood-shot sight
Caught the ferryman's sprite;