At her footstool place his crown,
And, thy mission to fulfil,
Let him live but by her will."
Having finished her incantation, and repeated these lines in a voice sufficiently distinct, though not unlike the croak of a raven, the old woman now turned once more to Ophelia, as if to ascertain whether she had anything more to say. The maiden smiled sweetly upon her, and at once expressed her thanks in the following words:—
"Dear godmother! how good thou art!
The burden now has left my heart,
Which like a weight has bowed me down
With fear of tyrant Famcram's frown.
Well do I know 'twere hard to find
A councillor more wise and kind;