But all my visions, howe'er bright their hue,
No more be false, no more be aught but true!
"Ye elementary spirits, who so long
With ready wiles have baffled all my art
One hour more, and I in power strong
Shall see ye all in helpless rage depart!
At last your devilish malice all o'erthrown,
At last the great elixir all my own!"
Thus spoke the alchymist; but ruthless Death,
Who strikes alike the mighty and the low,