And straight the hidden was in view,

A visage painted all and bleared,

Where signs of lust and hate appeared:

One bloody hand she raised on high,

Crooked was the other and awry.

“How? what is this?” he shuddering

Exclaimed—“Who art thou, loathsome thing?”

“I with this bloody hand,” she said,

“Do ever strike my lovers dead:

The other hand its shape has won