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ODE TO SUPERSTITION.*
I. 1. Hence, to the realms of Night, dire Demon, hence !
Thy chain of adamant can bind
That little world, the human mind,
Wake the lion's loudest roar,
At thy command he plants the dagger deep,
• Written in early youth.
When, with a frown that froze the peopled earth,
Thou dartedst thy huge head from high,
Night waved her banners o'er the sky,
Rocking on the billowy air,
Ha! what withering phantoms glare !
The spirit of the water rides the storm,
And holds each mountain-wave in chains,
By glistering star-light thro' the snow,
Breathes softly in her wondering ear
• Lucretius, I. 63.
And, while the panting tigress hies
His spirit laughs in agonies,
Mark who mounts the sacred pyre, *
Blooming in her bridal vest:
To die is to be blest:
Weave the airy web of Fate;
Each unhewn mass of living stone
Was clad in horrors not its own,
Giant Error, darkly grand,
• The funeral rite of the Hindoos.
+ The Fates of the Northern Mythology. See Mallet's Antiquities. | An allusion to the Second Sight.