In a dell hid low from the night and day:
It was shown to me in an awful hour
When the children of hell came out to play.
I have three spirits—seeming snakes;
The youngest is six score years young,
The second rose from the nether lakes,
And the third was once Duke Satan’s tongue.
The wild bird’s flesh is not their food,
No common umbles are their dole;
I nourish them well with infants’ blood,