By blows at random three times given,
Esgair must seek her father's cave,
Nor quit again the gloomy wave,
No slow revolving years shall wake
The spell-bound slumberers of the lake.
By this time the tempest had gradually died away. A faint melody of unearthly beauty fell on their ears—as they listened wondering and entranced, they heard these thrilling words:
Three times lost, and three times won,
Thou hast wedded Dafydd's son:
Brow that holy sign hath crossed
Ne'er can be by witchcraft lost.