requeſt,” ſaid one of the hags, “ſhall be granted; yet, perhaps for ever ſhall you and him you call friend be parted. Liſten then to what we tell.”
“King of men,” ſaid, with a voice deeply toned, the firſt, “what this night meets thy wondering fight, if ever by thee revealed, ſhall work thy overthrow; but what thou hear, believe, ’tis caution good.”
The ſecond ſpoke.–“Thy foes are friends; thy friends are foes; and thoſe thou truſt will thee deceive; plots ſurround, and ſome ſhall ſtand, and ſome ſhall fall; ere to-morrow’s ſun is ſet, wonderous tales ſhall meet thine ears.”
“Care and trouble cloud thy days,” cried in hollow accents the third; “wild diſpute and bloody treaſon mark thy reign; and, ſtrange to tell, ere Scotia’s crown thy ſon adorns, a lion by its whelps ſhall be devoured.”
The firſt, then turning to Edmund, began:
“Much love, Sir Knight, is turned to hate,
And toil and terror round thee wait”
“Then haſte, Sir Knight, and quickly go,
Or Scottiſh bands ſhall work thy woe,”
cried the ſecond and ceaſed.
The third took up the tale,
“Thy fate does lead to ſouthern land;
Then haſte, Sir Knight, nor fate withſtand.”
All three then loudly, in hoarſe accents, cried,
“King of men, thou know’ſt thy doom;
Thy fate, Sir Knight, is wrapt in gloom
Yet Scotland’s king, and England’s heir,
Shall equal be our deareſt care.”
The liquid contained in one horn was thrown on the king; a ſecond was poured over Edmund: and the third into the fire; when the hags joining their hands, wheeled round it with a flying motion–the flame forſook the wood. Borne upward in a chariot of fire, the three figures aſcended through the outlet in the roof, formed for the ſmoke, which filled the hall with a ſuffocating and offenſive ſmell.
The animals ſet up the moſt horrid cries; and ſurrounded by darkneſs, our adventurers knew not which
