XII.

"Get hence! get hence! there's dwarfish Hildebrand; 100 He had a fever late, and in the fit He cursed thee and thine, both house and land: Then there's that old Lord Maurice, not a whit More tame for his gray hairs--Alas me! flit! Flit like a ghost away."--"Ah, Gossip dear, We're safe enough; here in this arm-chair sit, And tell me how"--"Good Saints! not here, not here; Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier."