In cut and fit was scant and strange,
Some thought she hankered for a change,
And that ’twas sad her youth’s bright riches
Should e’er have graced a dance of witches.
But here my muse must faster flutter,
’Tis scarce within her power to utter
How Rannie leapt, and twirled, and flung
(A supple jade she was and young),
And how Weg stood like one bewitched,
How his eyes gleamed, how his mouth twitched.