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.’