Birds of omen dark and foul,
Night-crow, raven, bat, and owl,
Leave the sick man to his dream--
All night long he heard your scream.
Haste to cave and ruin'd tower,
Ivy tod, or dingled-bower,
There to wink and mope, for, hark!
In the mild air sings the lark.

Hie to moorish gills and rocks,
Prowling wolf and wily fox;
Hie ye fast, nor turn your view,
Though the lamb bleats to the ewe.
Couch your trains, and speed your flight,
Safety parts with parting night;
And on distant echo borne,
Comes the hunter's early horn.

The moon's wan crescent scarcely gleams,
Ghost-like she fades in morning beams:
Hie hence, each peevish imp and fay
That scare the pilgrim on his way.
Quench, kelpie! quench, in bog and fen,
Thy torch, that cheats benighted men;
Thy dance is o'er, thy reign is done,
For Ben-y-glow hath seen the sun.

Wild thoughts that, sinful, dark, and deep,
O'erpower the passive mind in sleep,
Pass from the slumberer's soul away,
Like night-mists from the brow of day:
Foul hag, whose blasted visage grim
Smothers the pulse, unnerves the limb,
Spur thy dark palfrey, and begone!
Thou dar'st not face the godlike sun.