Such as mine eyes avoach.
I have seen, yea touched the leathern wallet found
On the body of one from whom the truth was wrenched
By salutary tortare. He confeased,
Though but a famulus of the master-wizard,
The horrible old MoBes of Mayence,
He had flung such pouches in the Rhine, the Elbe,
The Oder, Danube-in a hundred brooks,
Until the wholesame air reeked pestilence;
Twas an ell Iong, filled with a dry, fine dust
Of rasty black and red, deftly compounded
Of powdered fleeh of basilisks, spiders, froga,
And lizarda, baked with eacramental doagh
In Christian blood.

Such goblin-tales may curdle
The veins of priest-rid women, fools, and chidren-
They are not for the ears of sober men

Pardon me, Sire. I am R simple eoldier.
My God, my coDEcience, and my Buzerain,
These are my guiden-blindfold I follow them.