Letters on demonology and witchcraft

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Page 54 - There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch, "Or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer.
Page 67 - And sullen Moloch fled, Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol all of blackest hue; In vain with cymbals ring They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue, The brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.
Page 66 - The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
Page 170 - Farewell rewards and fairies, Good housewives now may say, For now foul sluts in dairies Do fare as well as they. And though they sweep their hearths no less Than maids were wont to do, Yet who of late, for cleanliness, Finds sixpence in her shoe ? Lament, lament, old abbeys, The fairies lost command ; They did but change priests...
Page 171 - At morning and at evening both, You merry were and glad, So little care of sleep...
Page 45 - The doubling storm roars thro' the woods, The lightnings flash from pole to pole, Near and more near the thunders roll, When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze, Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil ; Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil!
Page 230 - How have I sat, when piped the pensive wind, To hear his harp by British Fairfax strung ! Prevailing poet ! whose undoubting mind Believed the magic wonders which he sung...
Page 67 - Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn In consecrated earth, And on the holy hearth, The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint ; In urns, and altars round, A drear and dying sound Affrights the flamens at their service quaint ; And the chill marble seema to sweat, While each peculiar Power forgoes his wonted seat.
Page 42 - Labours with wilder shrieks and rifer din Of hot pursuit - the broken cry of deer Mangled by throttling dogs, the shouts of men, And hoofs thick beating on the hollow hill.
Page 171 - Churne of Staffordshire Give laud and praises due, Who every meal can mend your cheer With tales both old and true : To William all give audience, And pray ye for his noddle, For all the fairies' evidence Were lost, if it were addle.

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