X.
By Jean Ingelow
Then my plumèd cap I doff,
Stooping.‘ T is the white-witch.‘ Hail,’
Quoth the witch,‘ thou shalt prevail
An thou wilt; I swear to thee
All thy days shall glorious shine,
Great and rich, ay, fair and fine,
So what followeth rest my fee,
So thou'lt give thy sleep to me.’