So, with dark dirge athwart the blasted heath,
Three Sister Witches hailed the appalled Macbeth.
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So, the Three Fates beneath grim Pluto’s roof,
Strain the dun warp, and weave the murky woof;
’Till deadly Atropos with fatal shears
Slits the thin promise of the expected years,
While ’midst the dungeon’s gloom or battle’s din,
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Ambition’s victims perish, as they spin.