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There is a lake in distant Zan

Beyond the unwanted haunts of man

Walks alone in hideous state

A spirit dead and desolate

A spirit ancient and unholy

Heavy with fearsome melancholy

In that lake

Which from the waters dull and dense

Draws vapours curst with pestilence

Around the banks, a mire of clay

Sprawl things offensive in decay

And curious birds that reach that shore

Are seen by mortals nevermore