Of This Spell

When the moon is on the wave,
And the glow-worn in the grass,
And the meteor on the grave,
And the wisp on the morass.
When the fallen stars are shooting,
And the answered owls are hooting,
And the silent leaves are still,
In the shadows of the hills,
Shall my soul be upon thine,
With the power and the sign,
Though they slumber may be deep,
Yet the spirit shall not sleep,
There are shades which will not vanish,
There are thoughts you cannot banish!
By the power of the unknown,
Thou cans't never be alone.
Thou art wrapped within a shroud.
Thou art gathered in a cloud.
And forever shalt thou dwell.
In the spirit of this spell.
And on thy head I pour the vial,
Which doth devote thee to this trial.
Nor to clumber, nor to die
Shall in thy destiny lie.
Though thy death shall still seem near,
To thy wish, but as fear,
Now the spell works around thee,
And the darkness chain hath bound thee,
I call upon thee and compel,
Thyself to be thy proper hell.