Do not speak, young wench, of magic
The cost may be sorely tragic
Your life, my own, our liberty
Forbidden lore by Church decree

Come away child, from dusty books
From familiars, runes and rooks
Turn away now, my chickadee
Forbidden lore by Church decree

Turn to God, o beautiful child
Avoid these things, that have beguiled
Stop now with magic, hear my plea
Forbidden lore by Church decree

(Kyrielle poem)