I'll do . . . and I'll do . . . your beautiful face—I'll weave it into the web of my lace,O Riddle Me Ree O eece O eeeee—.
"You will struggle in vain, my fair Ladye.I have your hand in my fatal grasp;Till I weave my web it shall not unclasp,Not even unto your dying gasp,O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeee—,
"O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeeee—And you shall see what you shall see.You may struggle early and struggle late,You can not escape from the hand of Fate,—The hand of Fate is insatiate.O Riddle Me Ree O eee O eeeeeee—
"The web is woven—your hand is free,—Your hand is free and it holds a glass—'Tis the glass of Time." "Alas! Alas!Oh, what has happened? And where am I?"The Ladye cried with a terrible cry.
[69]
