After what solitary labour wrought,
And after what re-iterated charms,
Step by step here in all her beauty brought
Within the very circle of these arms,
Then to death’s grisly lineaments resign’d
Slipp’d through them, and went wailing down the wind
‘Ashes and dust and ashes’—
Nay, nay, pretend not that the fault was mine—
The written incantation line by line
I mutter’d, and the mystic figure drew;