Then the queen saith, 'Woman's wit No man asketh aid of it, Not wild hyssop on a wall Is of less account; or small Glossy gnats that flit i' the sun Less worth weighing--light so light! Yet when all's said--ay, all done, Love, I love thee! By love's might I will counsel thee aright, Or would share the weird to-night.' Then he answer'd 'Have thy way. Know 't is two years gone and a day Since I, walking lone and late, Pondered sore mine ill estate; Open murmurers, foes concealed, Famines dire i' the marches round, Neighbour kings unfriendly found, Ay, and treacherous plots revealed Where I trusted. I bid stay All my knights at the high crossway, And did down the forest fare To bethink me, and despair. 'Ah! thou gilded toy a throne, If one mounts to thee alone, Quoth I, mourning while I went, Haply he may drop content As a lark wing-weary down To the level, and his crown Leave for another man to don; Throne, thy gold steps raised upon. But for me--O as for me What is named I would not dree, Earn, or conquer, or forego For the barring of overthrow.' IX. 'Aloud I spake, but verily Never an answer looked should be. But it came to pass from shade Pacing to an open glade, Which the oaks a mighty wall Fence about, methought a call Sounded, then a pale thin mist Rose, a pillar, and fronted me, Rose and took a form I wist, And it wore a hood on 'ts head, And a long white garment spread, And I saw the eyes thereof. X. Then my plumèd cap I doff, Stooping. 'T is the white-witch. 'Hail,' Quoth the witch, 'thou shalt prevail An thou wilt; I swear to thee All thy days shall glorious shine, Great and rich, ay, fair and fine, So what followeth rest my fee, So thou'lt give thy sleep to me.' XI.