The Poet Gay--The "Spell"--Hobnelia--Lubberkin going to Town--A Maiden fine--Spells resorted to--Marking the Ground, and turning three times round--Hempseed as a Charm--Valentine Day--A Snail used in Divination--Burning Nuts--Pea-cods as a Spell--Ladybird sent on a Message of Love--Pippin Parings--Virtue of United Garters--Love Powder--Gipsies' Warnings--Knives sever Love--Story of Boccaccio--Apparition of a Deceased Lover--Poems by Burns--"Address to the Deil"--"Tam o' Shanter." John Gay, the old English poet, writes in his _Spell_: "Hobnelia, seated in a dreary vale, In pensive mood rehearsed her piteous tale; Her piteous tale the winds in sighs bemoan, And pining Echo answers groan for groan. I rue the day, a rueful day I trow, The woeful day, a day indeed of woe! When Lubberkin to town his cattle drove, A maiden fine bedight he kept in love; The maiden fine bedight his love retains, And for the village he forsakes the plains. Return, my Lubberkin, these ditties hear, Spells will I try, and spells shall ease my care. With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around. When first the year I heard the cuckoo sing, And call with welcome note the budding spring, I straightway set a-running with such haste, Deb'rah that won the smock scarce ran so fast; Till, spent for lack of breath, quite weary grown, Upon a rising bank I sat adown, Then doff'd my shoe, and, by my troth, I swear, Therein I spy'd this yellow frizzled hair, As like to Lubberkin's in curle and hue, As if upon his comely pate it grew. With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around. At eve last summer no sleep I sought, But to the field a bag of hempseed brought, I scattered round the seed on every side, And three times in a trembling accent cry'd: This hempseed with my virgin hand I sow, Who shall my true love be, the crop shall mow. I straight look'd back, and if my eyes speak true, With his keen scythe behind me came the youth. With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around. Last Valentine, the day when birds of kind Their paramours with mutual chirping find, I early rose, just at the break of day, Before the sun had chas'd the stars away; Afield I went, amid the morning dew, To milk my kine (for so should housewives do). The first I spy'd, and the first swain we see, In spite of fortune shall our true love be; See, Lubberkin, each bird his partner take, And canst thou then thy sweetheart dear forsake? With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around. Last May-day fair I searched to find a snail