The pyramids—and fragments of the limbs
Crushed by the blood-stained car of Jaggernaut—
Herbs gathered in the moon-shine—henbane steeped
In poisonous sweat exhaled from the dark yew
That shades a murderous[1] grave—
And wholesome plants cankered by spawn of toads—
'Twill make a slimy hell-broth such as fiends
Will purchase with invaluable gifts.
It thickens; it increases. Oh rejoice!
Emancipation from this load of clay
Is close at hand. Say whither art thou bound?
Second Witch.
Floating in air above the polar star—
Spreading its wide illimitable waves
Beyond the human eye, I love to watch
The huge leviathan as he lies stretched
Upon the old sea's surface, basking full
In the bright borealis, troubling there
The awful stillness of the summer night,
Which knows no change from day, by the loud rush
