Limbeck

[…] some of our modern chemists by their strange limbecks, by their spells, philosopher's stones and charms.

I, by loves limbecke, am the grave / Of all, that's nothing.

Her strong enchantments failing, Her towers of fear in wreck, Her limbecks dried of poisons And the knife at her neck, The Queen of air and darkness Begins to shrill and cry, ‘O young man, O my slayer, To-morrow you shall die.’