The man, and woman, they soon were dead,
The sailors their strength did urge;

But the billows that beat, were their winding-sheet,
And the winds sung their funeral dirge.

She threw the infant's hair in the fire,
The red flame flamed high,

And round about the cauldron stout
They danced right merrily.

The second begun, she said she had done
The task that Queen Hecat' had set her,
And that the devil, the father of evil,
Had never accomplish'd a better.

She said, there was an aged woman
And she had a daughter fair,
Whose evil habits fill'd her heart
With misery and care.

The daughter had a paramour,
A wicked man was he,
And oft the woman, him against,
Did murmur grievously.

And the hag had worked the daughter up
To murder her old mother,

That then she might seize on all her goods,
And wanton with her lover.

And one night as the old woman

Was sick and ill in bed, And pondering sorely on the life

Her wicked daughter led,

She heard her footstep on the floor,
And she rais'd her pallid head,
And she saw her daughter, with a knife,
Approaching to her bed.

And she said, my child, I'm very ill,
I have not long to live,
Now kiss my cheek, that ere I die
Thy sins I may forgive.

And the murderess bent to kiss her cheek,
And she lifted the sharp, bright knife,

And the mother saw her fell intent,

And hard she begg'd for life.

But prayers would nothing her avail,

And she scream'd loud with fear;

But the house was lone, and the piercing screams Could reach no human ear.

And though that she was sick, and old,
She struggled hard, and fought;
The murderess cut three fingers through
Ere she could reach her throat.

And the hag she held the fingers up,
The skin was mangled sore,

And they all agreed a nobler deed
Was never done before.

And she threw the fingers in the fire, The red flame flamed high,

And round about the cauldron stout They danced right merrily.

The third arose: She said she'd been To Holy Palestine;

And seen more blood in one short day, Than they had all seen in nine.

Now Gondoline, with fearful steps,
Drew nearer to the flame,
For much she dreaded now to hear
Her hapless lover's name.

The hag related then the sports
Of that eventful day,
When on the well-contested field

Full fifteen thousand lay.

She said, that she in human gore,
Above the knees did wade,

And that no tongue could truly tell

The tricks she there had play'd.

There was a gallant featur'd youth,
Who like a hero fought;

He kiss'd a bracelet on his wrist,
And every danger sought.

And in a vassal's garb disguis'd
Unto the knight she sues,
And tells him she from Britain comes
And brings unwelcome news.

That three days ere she had embark'd, His love had given her hand, Unto a wealthy Thane:-and thought Him dead in holy land.

And to have seen how he did writhe
When this her tale she told,
It would have made a wizard's blood
Within his heart run cold.

Then fierce he spur'd his warrior steed, And sought the battle's bed:

And soon all mangled o'er with wounds He on the cold turf bled.

And from his smoking corse, she tore
His head, half clove in two,

She ceas'd, and from beneath her garb,
The bloody trophy drew.

The eyes were starting from their socks,
The mouth it ghastly grinn'd,

And there was a gash across the brow,

The scalp was nearly skinn'd.

"Twas BERTRAND'S HEAD!! With a terrible screain, The maiden gave a spring,

And from her fearful hiding-place

She fell into the ring.

The lights they fled, the cauldron sunk,
Deep thunders shook the dome,
And hollow peals of laughter came
Resounding through the gloom.

Insensible, the maiden lay

Upon the hellish ground;

And still mysterious sounds were heard

At intervals around.

She woke, she half arose, and wild,

She cast a horrid glare,

The sounds had ceas'd, the lights had fled,
And all was stillness there.

And through an awning in the rock,

The moon it sweetly shone,

And shew'd a river in the cave

Which dismally did moan,