"Ye cannot visit her to-night,
Nor ever again," the witch-wife cried;
"But thou shalt do as I think right,
And do it swift without a guide.
"Upon the top of Tintock Hill
This night there rests the yearly mist,
In silence go, your tongue keep still,
And find for me the dead mans kist.
"Within the kist there is a cup,
Thou'lt find it by the dead man's shine,