And evil spirits; of the death-bed call

Of him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd

The orphan's portion; of unquiet souls

Risen from the grave to ease the heavy guilt

Of deeds in life conceal'd; of shapes that walk

At dead of night, and clank their chains, and wave

The torch of hell around the murderer's bed.

At every solemn pause the crowd recoil,

Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd

With shivering sighs: till eager for th' event,