III.

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.’

O Queen of air and darkness,

I think‘ tis truth you say,

And I shall die to-morrow;

But you will die to-day.