Nine days past, in early morn
this daughter of a king was born
Now is the time for augury,
for second sight and prophecy.
She's come to have her fortune told,
to learn just what her future holds.
Into this broth of herbs and bone,
a teardrop and an eyelash throw.
Now add honeysuckle flowers,
candle wax that watched for hours
with nursemaids who strict vigil kept
in the chamber where she slept.
Breath of queen, then breath of king,
and now the future can be seen:
clever, happy as a child
in temperament not over-mild;
a sickness in her seventh year,
but she'll recover, never fear.
She'll grow in beauty day by day,
be regal, strong in every way.
Men shall come from many lands
in hopes of winning her fair hand.
For years they'll seek her; all shall fail--
one noble man at last prevail.
She'll save her people when she's queen,
grown wise and strong from where she's been.
Sorrow she will find in full
but joy shall doubly overflow.
These are the things my magic says,
fair promises of princesses. . .