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I say,— Ye have no power where Piety hath power, And I do charge ye in the name—

      Spirit. Old man! We know ourselves, our mission, and thine order; Waste not thy holy words on idle uses, It were in vain: this man is forfeited. Once more—I summon him—Away! Away!

      Man. I do defy ye,—though I feel my soul Is ebbing from me, yet I do defy ye;100 Nor will I hence, while I have earthly breath To breathe my scorn upon ye—earthly strength To wrestle, though with spirits; what ye take Shall be ta'en limb by limb.

      Spirit. Reluctant mortal! Is this the Magian who would so pervade The world invisible, and make himself Almost our equal? Can it be that thou Art thus in love with life? the very life Which made thee wretched?

      Man. Thou false fiend, thou liest! My life is in its last hour,—that I know,110 Nor would redeem a moment of that hour; I do not combat against Death, but thee And thy surrounding angels; my past power Was purchased by no compact with thy crew, But by superior science—penance, daring, And length of watching, strength of mind, and skill In knowledge of our Fathers—when the earth Saw men and spirits walking side by side, And gave ye no supremacy: I stand Upon my strength—I do defy—deny—120 Spurn back, and scorn ye!—

      Spirit. But thy many crimes Have made thee—

      Abbot. Alas! how pale thou art—thy lips are white— And thy breast heaves—and in thy gasping throat The accents rattle: Give thy prayers to Heaven Pray—albeit but in thought,—but die not thus.

      Man. 'Tis over—my dull eyes can fix thee not; But all things swim around me, and the earth Heaves as it were beneath me. Fare thee well— Give me thy hand.

      Abbot. Cold—cold—even to the heart— But yet one prayer—Alas! how fares it with thee?150

      FOOTNOTES:

      "Alas! I have explored

       Philosophy, and Law, and Medicine,

       And over deep Divinity have pored,

       Studying with ardent and laborious zeal."

      Anster's Faust, 1883, p. 88.]

      [The "Incantation" was first published in "The Prisoner of Chillon and Other Poems. London: Printed for John Murray, Albemarle Street, 1816." Immediately below the title is a note: "The following Poem was a Chorus in an unpublished Witch Drama, which was begun some years ago."]

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