Those were the days when superstition’s power
Was felt by all; none from its gloomy chains
Were free; the grave divine and the wise sage
Alike confessed its sway, its potent rule;
And, if dark fears of unknown ill had power
To shake the nerves of learned ministers,
We need not wonder if our worthy friend
Was not exempt from this besetting ill.
It was a night, he thought, when wicked fiends
Would triumph in the mischief they might cause;