XLII.

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Methought, a breath stole and unsealed my eyes
And bared the workings of the carcase world;
An engine, like a skeleton, ever plies
A trade infernal, Death’s flag stood unfurled;
With iron teeth, I mark’d, this hell-fiend tore
The gaspings relics of Creation’s throes;
Fitted to a rack each substance, looming more,
Lengthens unnatural shapes, in awful rows;
And howlings, tears, and shriekings thrill’d the night,
That mourn’d for ever, dumbly consonant;
Each shape, to other bound in pitiless plight,
Reluctant, must destroy, foster, or plant,
What, it knows not, and cares not; whizzing wheels
Whirl, till the sick heart pants, the mad brain reels.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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