And often, ere thy course is run, Thy cold, uncertain light Gleams where the culprit's skeleton Swings to the winds of night.
A light cloud hangs upon thy brow, (What foul deed would it hide?) 'Tis gone: thine orb, unshaded now, Looks down on human pride.
And now the midnight hour invites Th' accursed witch's vow, While to her thrice accursed rites Sole witness rollest thou!
Lo! underneath yon falling tower The tottering beldame seeks Herbs, of some hidden evil power, While muttered charms she speaks.
Or where some noisome cavern yawns, Where vipers get their food, Or where the Nile's huge offspring spawns Her pestilential brood:
There—while the bubbling cauldron sings Beneath their eldritch glance— As wild their fiendish laughter rings, The haggard sisters dance.
Can sin endure thy majesty, Nor thy pure presence fly? 'Tis like the sad severity Of a fond father's eye.
There, where no mortal eye can see, No mortal voice can tell, Wisdom hath marked thy path to be Th' Almighty's sentinel.