Of herbs he had made an
elixir quaint To prolong his
life, ere his years were spent;
But Fate hath frustrated his intent.

A chalice, he lifted in his hand,
To drink the elixir which
fate had banned.
It fell and was spilt upon
the sand.

"But," he thought, "it is
not as yet too late.
I will go at once, nor a
moment wait;
Though the night be dark
and the hour be late."

Nimue knew of Merlin's guile;
How evil he veiled in a
simple smile.
How his heart was laden
with many a wile.

She had gone by night
to a churchyard grey
And the herbs she had
torn from the earth away.
And Merlin will curse
this evil day.

For the wizard will be
appalled to think That
he is trembling upon the brink
Of the grave:
Life's elixir no more he'll drink.

Old he grew in a single night;
His limbs were palsied,
his hair was white.
Helpless was he to set it right.

Nimue was a fairy maid,
In a Grecian garment of
white arrayed. And her hair
was bound with a golden braid.

Black was her hair as ebony,
Her eyes the fairest a man
might see, Shining with
magic mystery.

"Now," she cried, "is the
hour mine own, As Merlin
shall for his sins atone;
His power for evil is past
and gone."

When Merlin crawled on
his weary way,
The little children would
pause at play To jeer at
the wizard, old and grey.

He sat him down by a
hollow tree, And unto
him came Nimue.

She sat her down on the
Wizard's knee.
Long had the dotard
followed her; Chasing the
fair one, near and far.

"Nothing now my desire
will bar." He thought for
her long white arms entwined
Round his shrunken neck;
and the wanton wind Blew
her hair in his face;
and she seemed kind.

His shriveled lips upon
hers were prest; His hands
were fondling her warm
soft breast; As this ladie
weird he in love caressed.

He told her of many a subtle
spell; And, hearing his
secrets her heart doth swell
As she cries,

"O Merlin, I love thee well!"
"I am thine for ever, for
good or ill, If the wish of
my heart wilt thou fulfil.
If thou wilt obey me,
thou hast thy will."

" 'Neath yonder stone,
hast thou said to me,
Is a cave and only by
grammarie, From its mouth,
that great stone mov'd may be." "But to me it seemeth
impossible That the stone
could be lifted by any spell.
Raise it for me; for I
love thee well."

Merlin arose with an
air sedate,
To a certain doom,
impelled by fate,
He openeth now the
rocky gate.

"Further, I'll prove thee,"
then said she,
"Enter this magic
cave for me;
Shut thou the door,
by grammarie."
"Then shall thou roll
the rock away,
Proving thy power by
this assay,
Thou'llt stand again
in the open day."

She spake, and the
stone was rolled aside,
And the old man entered
the cavern wide--
Besotted by love and
by foolish pride.