"
"And methinks a better man than tanner!" said Jocelyn. "So here we stand
three goodly wights and well armed. Let's away--"
"Nay, then, wild Madcap," croaked the Witch, "an my Lobkyn go I go, and,
though I be old and feeble, shalt find my craft more potent than sword or
club--wait!"
Here the old woman, opening a dingy cupboard, took thence a small crock
over which she muttered spells and incantations with look and gesture so
evil that Lobkyn eyed her askance, Will the Tanner cowered and whispered
fragments of prayers, and even Jocelyn crossed himself.
"Come!" croaked the Witch. "Now do I go to save rogue from gallows for sake
of thee, tall Fool. Come ye, come and do as I bid ye in all things--come!"
FYTTE 6
Tells how for Robin a good fight was fought
And our old Witch a spell mysterious wrought.
* * * * *
Phoebus, the young and gladsome god of day,
His fiery steeds had yoked to flaming car
(By which, my Gill, you may surmise
The sun was just about to rise)
And that be-feathered, crook-billed harbinger,
The rosy-wattled herald of the dawn,
Red comb aflaunt, bold-eyed and spurred for strife,
Brave Chanticleer, his strident summons raised
(By which fine phrase I'd have you know,
The cock had just begun to crow)
And gentle Zephyr, child of Boreas,
Stole soft the hush of dewy leaves,
And passing kissed the flowers to wakefulness.
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