chimney, too, may serve thy need.
I must confess, my stepping o'er Thy threshold a slight hindrance doth
impede; The wizard - foot doth me retain.
The pentagram thy peace doth mar? To me, thou son of hell, explain, How
camest thou in, if this thine exit bar? Could such a spirit aught ensnare?
Observe it well, it is not drawn with care, One of the angles, that which points
without, Is, as thou seest, not quite closed.
Chance hath the matter happily dispos'd! So thou my captive art? No doubt!