XVI.

‘ Wake, the seely gnomes do fly,

Drenched across yon rainy sky,

With the vex'd moon-mother'd elves,

And the clouds do weep themselves

Into morning.

All night long

Hath thy weird thee sore opprest;

Wake, I have found within my breast

Counsel.’ Ah, the weird was strong,

But the time is told. Release

Openeth on him when his eyes

Lift them in dull desolate wise,

And behold he is at peace.

Ay, but silent. Of all done

And all suffer'd in the night,

Of all ills that do him spite

She shall never know that one.

Then he heareth accents bland,

Seeth the queen's ring on his hand,

And he riseth calmed withal.