How They Brought the Good News From Ghent to Aix

7Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace

8Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;

9I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,

10Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,

11Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,

12Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.

13'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near

14Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear:

15At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;

16At Düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be;

17And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,

18So, Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"

19At Aershot up leaped of a sudden the sun,

20And against him the cattle stood black every one,

21To stare through the mist at us galloping past,

22And I saw my stout galloper Roland, at last,

23With resolute shoulders, each butting away

24The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray:

25And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back

26For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;

27And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that glance

28O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!

29And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon

30His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.

31By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!

32Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her,

33We'll remember at Aix" — for one heard the quick wheeze

34Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,

35And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,

36As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.

37So, we were left galloping, Joris and I,

38Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;

39The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,

40'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;

41Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,

42And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!"

43"How they'll greet us!" — and all in a moment his roan

44Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;

45And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight

46Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,

47With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,

48And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.

49Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall,

50Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,

51Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,

52Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer;

53Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good,

54Till at length, into Aix Roland galloped and stood.

55And all I remember is, — friends flocking round

56As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground;

57And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,

58As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,

59Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)

60Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.