The Witch She gave him armour white;

She formed him like a gallant Knight;

Of water clear next made her hand

A Steed, whose housings were of sand.

The Water-King then swift He went;

To Mary's Church his steps He bent:

He bound his Courser to the Door,

And paced the Church-yard three times four.

His Courser to the door bound He,

And paced the Church-yard four time three:

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Then hastened up the Aisle, where all

The People flocked, both great and small.

The Priest said, as the Knight drew near,

'And wherefore comes the white Chief here?'

The lovely Maid She smiled aside;

'Oh! would I were the white Chief's Bride!'

He stept o'er Benches one and two;

'Oh! lovely Maid, I die for You!'

He stept o'er Benches two and three;

'Oh! lovely Maiden, go with me!'

Then sweet She smiled, the lovely Maid,

And while She gave her hand, She said,

'Betide me joy, betide me woe,

O'er Hill, o'er dale, with thee I go.'

The Priest their hands together joins:

They dance, while clear the moon-beam shines;

And little thinks the Maiden bright,

Her Partner is the Water-spright.

Oh! had some spirit deigned to sing,

'Your Partner is the Water-King!'

The Maid had fear and hate confest,

And cursed the hand which then She prest.

But nothing giving cause to think,

How near She strayed to danger's brink,

Still on She went, and hand in hand

The Lovers reached the yellow sand.

'Ascend this Steed with me, my Dear;

We needs must cross the streamlet here;

Ride boldly in; It is not deep;

The winds are hushed, the billows sleep.'

Thus spoke the Water-King. The Maid

Her Traitor-Bride-groom's wish obeyed:

And soon She saw the Courser lave

Delighted in his parent wave.

'Stop! Stop! my Love!

The waters blue

E'en now my shrinking foot bedew!'

'Oh! lay aside your fears, sweet Heart!

We now have reached the deepest part.'

'Stop! Stop! my Love! For now I see

The waters rise above my knee.'

'Oh! lay aside your fears, sweet Heart!

We now have reached the deepest part.'

'Stop! Stop! for God's sake, stop! For Oh!

The waters o'er my bosom flow!'

-- Scarce was the word pronounced, when Knight

And Courser vanished from her sight.

She shrieks, but shrieks in vain; for high

The wild winds rising dull the cry;

The Fiend exults; The Billows dash,

And o'er their hapless Victim wash.




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