“And, full of this thought, he went by night to the house, where there was an opening like a window or portal in the courtyard, and began to sing:
“‘Batte le dodici a una campana,
Si sente appena dalla lontana.“‘Se almeno la voce potessi sentire,
Della mia bella che tanto deve soffrire.’“‘Midnight is striking, I hear it afar,
High in the heaven shines many a star.“‘And oh that the voice of the one I could hear,
Who suffers so sadly—the love I hold dear.“‘Oh stars, if you’re looking with pity on me,
I pray you the maid from affliction to free!’
“As he sang this, he heard a cow lowing in the courtyard, and as his mind was full of the idea of enchantment, his attention was attracted to it. Then he sang:
“‘If enchanted here you be,
Low, but gently, one, two, three!
Low in answer unto me,
And a rescue soon you’ll see.’
“Then the cow lowed three times, very softly, and the young man, delighted, put to her other questions, and being very shrewd, he so managed it as to extract with only yea and nay all the story. Having learned all this, he reflected that to beat a terrier ’tis well to take a bulldog, and after much inquiry, he found that there dwelt in Arezzo a great sorcerer, but a man of noble character, and was, moreover, astonished to learn from his mother that this gran mago had been a friend of his father.
“And being well received by the wise man, and having told his story, the sage replied:
“‘Evil indeed is the woman of whom you speak—a black witch of low degree, who has been allowed, as all of her kind are, to complete her measure of sin, in order that she may receive her full measure of punishment. For all things may
be forgiven, but not cruelty, and she has lived on the sufferings of others. Yet her power is of a petty kind, and such as any priest can crush.
“‘Go to the stable when she shall be absent, and I will provide that she shall be away all to-morrow. Then bind verbena on the cow’s horns, and hang a crucifix over the door, and sprinkle all the floor with holy water and incense, and sing to the cow:
“‘The witch is not thy mother in truth,
She stole thee in thy early youth,
She has deserved thy bitterest hate,
Then fear not to retaliate;
And when she comes to thee again,
Then rush at her with might and main;
She has heaped on thee many a scorn,
Repay it with thy pointed horn.’