...il not, Through a circle that ever rcturneth in To the self-eame spot, And much of Madness and mnre of Sin, And Horror the soul of the plot. But see, amid the mimic mut, A crawling shape intnuli: ! A blood-red thing that writhes from out The scenic solitude ! It writhe*...

...Phantom chased for evermore By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returneth in ; To the self-same spot ; And much of madness, and more of sin, And swindling the soul of the plot. But see amid the mimic rout A wizen thing intrude ! A shrivelled shape...

...Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returncth in To the self-same spot, And much of Madness, and more...solitude! It writhes ! — it writhes ! — with mortal The mimes Income its food, And the angels sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued. Out — out are...

...Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returneth in To the self-same spot, And much of Madness, and more...writhes ! — it writhes ! — with mortal pangs The rnimes become its food, And the angels sob at vermin i'angs In human gore imbued. Out-^out are the...

...Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returneth in To the self-same spot ; And much of Madness, and more of Sin And horror, the soul of the plot 1 But see, amid the mimic rout A crawling shape intrude ! A blood-red thing that writhes from out The...

...Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returneth in To the self-same spot ; And much of Madness, and more of Sin, And Horror the soul of the plot. IV. But, see, amid the mimic rout A crawling shape intrude ! A blood-red thing that writhes from out...

...its Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not. Through a circle that ever rctumeth in % pang«, The mimes become its food, And the angels sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued. Out—...

...Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returneth in To the self-same spot, And much of Madness, and more...with mortal pangs The mimes become its food, And the angels sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued. Out — out are the lights — out all ! And, over...

...a erowd that seize it not, Through a eirele that ever returneth in To the self-same spot, And mueh of Madness, and more of Sin, And Horror the soul of the plot. But see, amid the mimie rout A erawling shape intrude ! A blood-red thing that writhes from out The seenie solitude !...

...Through a circle that ever returueth in It shall not be forgot! With its phantom chased for evermore, To the self-same spot, And much of madness and more...intrude ! A blood-red thing that writhes from out It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pongs The mimes become its food, And the angels sob at vermin...