The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never pass'd away:
I could not draw my eye from theirs,
Nor turn them up to pray.
And in its time the spell was snapt,
And I could move my eye:
I look'd far-forth, but little saw,
Of what might else be seen.
Like one, that on a lonely road,
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turn'd round, walks on,
And turns no more his head:
Because he knows, a frightful fiend,
Doth close behind him tread.