But for your winsome lady:
“And by my word! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;
So though the waves are raging white,
I’ll row you o’er the ferry.”
By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking;[81]
And in the scowl of heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.
But still as wilder blew the wind,