(By the author of “Christabel.”)
“Up!” said the spirit, and ere I could pray
One hasty orison, whirl’d me away
To a limbo, lying—I wist not where—
Above or below, in earth or air;
For it glimmered o’er with a doubtful light,
One couldn’t say whether ’twas day or night;
And was crost by many a mazy track,
One didn’t know how to get on or back;
And I felt like a needle that’s going astray,