“In these far climes it was my lot To meet the wondrous Michael Scott; A wizard of such dreaded fame That when, in Salamanca’s cave, Him listed his magic wand to wave, The bells would ring in Notre Dame! Some of his skill he taught to me; And, warrior, I could say to thee The words that cleft Eildon hills in three, And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone; But to speak them were a deadly sin; And for having but thought them my heart within, A treble penance must be done.”

And the opening of the tomb to recover the Magic Book:⁠—