And mock'd the counsel of the wise, and the valor

of the brave. Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories

are ; And glory to our Sovereign Lord, King Henry of






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the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I gallop'd, Dirck gallop'd, we gallop'd all three, Good speed !” cried the watch, as the gate-bolts

undrew; "Speed !” echo'd the wall to us galloping through; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we gallop'd abreast.

Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our

place; I turn’d in my saddle and made its girths tight, Then shorten'd each stirrup, and set the pique

right, Rebuckled the check-strap, chain’d slacker the bit, Nor gallop'd less steadily Roland a whit.

'Twas moonset at starting ; but while we drew near Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawn’d clear;

At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see ;
At Düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be ;
And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the

So Joris broke silence with, “ Yet there is time !"

At Aerschot, up leap'd of a sudden the sun,
And against him the cattle stood black every one,
To stare through the mist at us galloping past,
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
With resolute shoulders, each butting away
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray.

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent

back For

my voice, and the other prick'd out on his track; And one eye's black intelligence,-ever that glance O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance! And the thick heavy spume flakes which aye and


His fierce lips shook upward in galloping on.

By Hasselt, Dirck groan'd; and cried Joris, “ Stay

spur! Your Roos gallop'd bravely, the fault's not in her; We'll remember at Aix—” for one heard the quick

wheeze Of her chest, saw the stretch'd neck, and staggering

knees, And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, As down on her haunches she shudder'd and sank.

So we were left galloping, Joris and I,
Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
The broad sun above laugh'd a pitiless laugh,
’Neath cur feet broke the brittle bright stubble like

chaff; Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And “Gallop,” gasp'd Joris, “ for Aix is in sight!

How they'll greet us !”—and all in a moment his


Roll'd neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her

fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.

Then I cast loose my buff coat, each holster let fall,
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
Stood up in the stirrup, lean’d, patted his ear,

my Roland his pet-name, my horse without

peer; Clapp'd my hands, laugh'd and sang, any noise, bad

or good, Till at length into Aix Roland gallop'd and stood.

And all I remember is, friends flocking round
As I sate with his head 'twixt my knees on the

ground, And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, As I pour'd down his throat our last measure of wine,



Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.



WORD was brought to the Danish king

(Hurry!) That the love of his heart lay suffering And pined for the comfort his voice would bring;

(Oh ride as though you were flying !)

Better he loves each golden curl
On the brow of that Scandinavian girl
Than his rich crown jewels of ruby and pearl ;

And his Rose of the Isles is dying !

Thirty nobles saddled with speed;

Each one mounting a gallant steed
Which he kept for battle and days of need;

(Oh ride as though you were flying !)
Spurs were struck in the foaming flank;
Worn-out chargers stagger'd and sank;
Bridles were slacken’d, and girths were burst ;
But ride as they would, the king rode first,

For his Rose of the Isles lay dying !

His nobles are beaten one by one;

(Hurry!) They have fainted, and falter'd, and homeward

His little fair page now follows alone,

For strength and for courage trying.
The king look'd back at that faithful child ;
Wan was the face that answering smiled;
They pass'd the drawbridge with clattering din,
Then he dropp’d; and only the king rode in

Where his Rose of the Isles lay dying !

The king blew a blast on his bugle horn;

(Silence!) No answer came; but faint and forlorn

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