XII.
The owls, and the bones were now silent. But along the road came an old crooked beldame pall mall against the magic circle. She was hung round with wooden spoons, ladles, and other kitchen utensils; and made a hideous rattling as she moved. The owls saluted her with hooting, and stroked her with their wings. At the circle, she bowed to the bones and skulls; but the coals shot forth lambent tongues of flame against her, and she drew back her withered hands. Then she paced round the circle, and with a grin presented her wares to William. “Give me the bones,” said she in a harsh guttural tone, “and I’ll give thee some spoons. Give the skulls to me, love: what’s the trumpery to thee, love?” and then she chaunted, with a scornful air,
There’s nothing can help: ’tis an hour too late;
Nothing can step betwixt thee and thy fate.
Shoot in the light, or shoot in the dark,
Thy bullets, be sure, shall go true to the mark.
