And he shot to the front, hands down;
I remember the snort and the stag-like bound
Of the steed six lengths to the fore,
And the laugh of the rider while, landing sound,
He turned in his saddle and glanced around;
I remember -- but little more,
Save a bird's-eye gleam of the dashing stream,
A jarring thud on the wall,
A shock and the blank of a nightmare's dream --
I was down with a stunning fall.




Fytte III
Zu der edlen Yagd
[A Treatise on Trees -- Vine-tree v. Saddle-tree]

"Now, welcome, welcome, masters mine,
Thrice welcome to the noble chase,
Nor earthly sport, nor sport divine,
Can take such honourable place." -- Ballad of the Wild Huntsman.
(Free Translation.)



I remember some words my father said,
When I was an urchin vain; --
God rest his soul, in his narrow bed
These ten long years he hath lain.