Doth he not when he hath levelled the face thereof, Cast abroad the fennel? And, the cummin, doth he not scatter? And plant wheat in rows, And barley in a lot, And spelt in the border thereof?

Yet shall there come to thee - both these, in a moment, in one day, Loss of children and widowhood, - To their full, have they come on thee, Spite of the mass of thine incantations, Spite of the great throng of thy spells.

Take thy stand, I pray thee, With thy spells. And with the throng of thine incantations wherein thou hast wearied thyself from thy youth, - Peradventure thou mayest be able to profit Peradventure thou mayest strike me with terror.