And such a sight as she saw there,
No mortal saw before,

And such a sight as she saw there,
No mortal shall see more.

A burning cauldron stood in the midst,
The flame was fierce and high,
And all the cave, so wide and long,
Was plainly seen thereby.

And round about the cauldron stout
Twelve wither'd witches stood:
Their waists were bound with living snakes,
And their hair was stiff with blood.

Their hands were gory too; and red
And fiercely flam'd their eyes;
And they were mutt'ring indistinct
Their hellish mysteries.

And suddenly they join'd their hands,
And utter'd a joyous cry,

And round about the cauldron stout
They danc'd right merrily.

And now they stopt; and each prepar'd
To tell what she had done,

Since last the lady of the night,
Her waning course had run.

Behind a rock stood Gondoline,

Thick weeds her face did veil,

And she lean'd fearful forwarder,
To hear the dreadful tale.

The first arose: She said she'd seen
Rare sport, since the blind cat mew'd:
She'd been to sea in a leaky sieve,

And a jovial storm had brew'd.

She called around the winged winds,
And rais'da devilish rout;

And she laugh'd so loud, the peals were heard
Full fifteen leagues about.

She said there was a little bark

Upon the roaring wave,

And there was a woman there who'd been
To see her husband's grave.

And she had got a child in her arms,

It was her only child,
And oft its little infant pranks

Her heavy heart beguil'd.

And there was too, in that same bark,

A father and his son;

The lad was sickly, and the sire

Was old and woe-begone.

And when the tempest waxed strong,

And the bark could no more it 'bide,

She said it was jovial fun to hear
How the poor devils cried.

The mother clasp'd her orphan child

Unto her breast, and wept;

And, sweetly folded in her arms,

The careless baby slept.

And she told how, in the shape o' the wind,
As manfully it roar'd,

She twisted her hand in the infant's hair
"And threw it overboard.

And to have seen the mother's pangs,
"Twas a glorious sight to see;
The crew could scarcely hold her down
From jumping in the sea.

The hag held a lock of the hair in her hand
And it was soft and fair,

It must have been a lovely child
To have had such lovely hair.

And she said, the father in his arms
He held his sickly son,

And his dying throes they fast arose,
His pains were nearly done.

And she throttled the youth with her sinewy hands,

And his face grew deadly blue;

And the father he tore his thin

And kiss'd the livid hue.

grey hair,

And then she told, how she bor'd a hole
In the bark, and it fill'd away:
And 'twas rare to hear, how some did swear,
And some did vow, and pray.

The man and woman, they soon were dead,
The sailors their strength did urge;
But the billows that beat, were their winding-sheet,

And the winds sung their funeral dirge.

She threw the infant's hair in the fire,
The red flame flamed high,

And round about the cauldron stout
They danced right merrily.

The second begun, she said she had done

The task that Queen Hecat' had set her,
And that the devil, the father of evil,
Had never accomplish'd a better.

She said, there was an aged woman,
And she had a daughter fair,
Whose evil habits fill'd her heart
With misery and care.

The daughter had a paramour,
A wicked man was he,
And oft the woman, him against,
Did murmur grievously.

And the hag had work'd the daughter up
To murder her old mother,
That then she might seize on all her goods,
And wanton with her lover.

And one night as the old woman
Was sick and ill in bed,
And pondering sorely on the life

Her wicked daughter led,

She heard her footstep on the floor,

And she rais'd her pallid head,

And she saw her daughter, with a knife,
Approaching to her bed.

And she said, my child, I'm

I have not long to live,

very ill,

Now kiss my cheek, that ere I die
Thy sins I may forgive.

And the murd'ress bent to kiss her cheek,
And she lifted the sharp, bright knife,
And the mother saw her fell intent,
And hard she begg'd for life.

But pray'rs would nothing her avail,
And she scream'd loud with fear;

But the house was lone, and the piercing screams
Could reach no human ear.

And, though that she was sick and old,
She struggled hard, and fought.
The murd'ress cut three fingers through
Ere she could reach her throat.

And the hag she held the fingers up,
The skin was mangled sore,
And they all agreed a nobler deed
Was never done before.

And she threw the fingers in the fire,'
The red flame flamed high,

And round about the cauldron stout
They danc'd right merrily.

The third arose: She said she'd been
To Holy Palestine;

And seen more blood in one short day
Than they had seen in nine.