And bare-boned bodies of vile things,
And evil-feathered bat-felled wings.
And all these mopped and mowed and grinned,
And sent strange noises down the wind.
There stood those twain unchanged alone
To face the horror of the crone;
She crouched against them by the board;
And cried the Maid: “Thy sword, thy sword!
Thy sword, O Goldilocks! For see
She will not keep her oath to me.”
Out flashed the blade therewith. He saw
The foul thing sidelong toward them draw,
Holding within her hand a cup
Wherein some dreadful drink seethed up.
Then Goldilocks cried out and smote,
And the sharp blade sheared the evil throat.
The head fell noseling to the floor;
The liquor from the cup did pour,
And ran along a sparkling flame
That nigh unto their footsoles came.