Fierce the storm, its bonds were broken,
And in buckets it descended;
Jason surely was at Colchis
Never drench’d in such a show’r-bath!
“An umbrella! Gladly would I
“Give you six-and-thirty kings[33]
“For the loan of one umbrella!”
“Cried I,—and the water dripp’d still.
Fagg’d to death, and out of temper,
We return’d, like half-drown’d puppies
Late at night, as best we could,
To the witch’s lofty cottage.
There beside the glowing fire-place
Sat Uraca, busy combing
Her great fat and ugly pug-dog;
Quickly she dismiss’d the latter,
To attend to us instead,
And my bed she soon got ready,
Loosening first my espardillas,
That uncomfortable foot-gear—
Help’d me to undress, my stockings
Pulling off; I found them sticking
To my legs, as close and faithful
As the friendship of a blockhead.
“Quick! a dressing-gown! I’d give you
“Six-and-thirty kings for only
“One dry dressing-gown!” exclaim’d I,
As my wet shirt steam’d upon me.
Freezing and with chattering teeth, I
Stood awhile upon the hearth;
By the fire then driven senseless
On the straw at length I sank.
But I slept not. Blinking look’d I
On the witch, who by the chimney
Sat, and held the head and shoulders
Of her son upon her lap,
Helping to undress him. Near her
Stood upright her ugly pug-dog,
And he in his front paw managed
Cleverly to hold a pot.