There is also a curious tale about a count of Westeravia, whom a deserted concubine bewitched upon his marriage, so as to preclude all hopes of his becoming a father.  The spell continued to operate for three years, till one day, the count happening to meet with his former mistress, she maliciously asked him about the increase of his family.  The count, conceiving some suspicion from her manner, craftily answered, that God had blessed him with three fine children; on which she exclaimed, like Willie’s mother in the ballad, “May Heaven confound the old hag, by whose counsel I threw an enchanted pitcher into the draw-well of your palace!” The spell being found, and destroyed, the count became the father of a numerous family.—­Hierarchie of the Blessed Angels, p. 474.

WILLIE’S LADYE.

  Willie’s ta’en him o’er the faem,[A]
  He’s wooed a wife, and brought her hame;
  He’s wooed her for her yellow hair,
  But his mother wrought her meikle care;

  And meikle dolour gar’d her drie,
  For lighter she can never be;
  But in her bower she sits wi’ pain,
  And Willie mourns o’er her in vain.

  And to his mother he has gane,
  That vile rank witch, o’ vilest kind! 
  He says—­“My ladie has a cup,
  Wi’ gowd and silver set about,
  This gudely gift sall be your ain,
  And let her be lighter o’ her young bairn.”

  “Of her young bairn she’s never be lighter,
  “Nor in her bour to shine the brighter;
  “But she sall die, and turn to clay,
  “And you shall wed another may.”

  “Another may I’ll never wed,
  “Another may I’ll never bring hame.” 
  But, sighing, said that weary wight—­
  “I wish my life were at an end!”

  “Yet gae ye to your mother again,
  “That vile rank witch, o’ vilest kind! 
  “And say, your ladye has a steed,
  “The like o’ him’s no in the land o’ Leed.[B]

  “For he is silver shod before,
  “And he is gowden shod behind;
  “At every tuft of that horse mane,
  “There’s a golden chess[C], and a bell to ring. 
  “This gudely gift sall be her ain,
  “And let me be lighter o’ my young bairn.”

  “Of her young bairn she’s ne’er be lighter,
  “Nor in her bour to shine the brighter;
  “But she sall die, and turn to clay,
  “And ye sall wed another may.”

  “Another may I’ll never wed,
  “Another may I’ll never bring hame.” 
  But, sighing, said that weary wight—­
  “I wish my life were at an end!”

  “Yet gae ye to your mother again,
  “That vile rank witch, o’ rankest kind! 
  “And say, your ladye has a girdle,
  “It is a’ red gowd to the middle;

  “And aye, at ilka siller hem
  “Hang fifty siller bells and ten;
  “This gudely gift sall be her ain,
  “And let me be lighter o’ my young bairn.”

  “Of her young bairn she’s ne’er be lighter,
  “Nor in your bour to shine the brighter;
  “For she sall die, and turn to clay,
  “And thou sall wed another may.”