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So the fisherman went. But when he came to the shore the wind was

raging and the sea was tossed up and down in boiling waves, and

the ships were in trouble, and rolled fearfully upon the tops of

the billows. In the middle of the heavens there was a little

piece of blue sky, but towards the south all was red, as if a

dreadful storm was rising. At this sight the fisherman was

dreadfully frightened, and he trembled so that his knees knocked

together: but still he went down near to the shore, and said:

'O man of the sea! Hearken to me! My wife Ilsabill Will have her

own will, And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!'

'What does she want now?' said the fish. 'Ah!' said the

fisherman, 'my wife wants to be pope.' 'Go home,' said the fish;

'she is pope already.'