The gallant roan makes head, his feet
Approve the flood with care,
Then dashes, neighing, through, as if
A tiny brook it were.

Now come they to the castle wet,
Yet wrapt in heavenly bliss;
Let them describe who such have felt,
The intensity of this.

Now, sate they at the early meal;
The cup careered about ...
But entering soon--"Up noble Count!
The Mansfield!" cried a scout.

The bride and sister fearfully
Their hair in sorrow tore;
The Count already had to horse,
And his full armour wore.

Forth went he out to meet the strife.
And called to Mansfield loud,
"In vain your anger is, for she
My wife is, wed and vow'd.

And am I not of noble stem,
Whose fame is bruited wide,
Who princes to our nation gave,
E'en in the heathen tide?"