“There lay a log unlighted on the hearth,

When she was laboring in the throes of birth

For th’ unborn chief; the fatal sisters came,

And raised it up, and tossed it on the flame

Then on the rock a scanty measure place

Of vital flax, and turned the wheel apace;

And turning sung, ‘To this red brand and thee,

O new-born babe, we give an equal destiny’;