The king from his quiver an arrow pulled out,—
In the desert ’tis well to show terror of foes,
For at home not a thorn will appear on the rose;
The terrified horse-keeper uttered a cry,
Saying:—“Do not destroy me! no foeman am I.
I am he who takes care of the steeds of the king;
In this meadow, with zeal to my duty I cling.”
The king’s startled heart found composure again;
He smiled and exclaimed:—“Oh most foolish of men!
Some fortunate angel has succored you here;