Or had ye patience, wise and sage
We might such worthy sufferers call;
But ye are birds that suit your cage—
Poor, vile, impatient, worthless all! 280
XXXVI.
How came I hither? Oh, that Hag!
’Tis she the enchanting spell prepares;
By cruel witchcraft she can drag
My struggling being in her snares:
Oh, how triumphantly she glares;