O'er a dark field I held my dubious way
Where Jack-a-lanthorn walk'd his lonely round,
Beneath my feet substantial darkness lay,435
And screams were heard from the distemper'd ground.
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Nor look'd I back, till to a far off wood,
Trembling with fear, my weary feet had sped—
Dark was the night, but at the inchanted dome
I saw the infernal windows flaming red.440
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And from within the howls of Death I heard,
Cursing the dismal night that gave him birth,
Damning his ancient sire, and mother sin,
Who at the gates of hell, accursed, brought him forth.
112
[For fancy gave to my enraptur'd soul445
An eagle's eye, with keenest glance to see,
And bade those distant sounds distinctly roll,
Which, waking, never had affected me.]
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Oft his pale breast with cruel hand he smote,
And tearing from his limbs a winding sheet,450
Roar'd to the black skies, while the woods around,
As wicked as himself, his words repeat.
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