Get for me the horses black,
Drive them before thee on the way back.
Then let them loose among my flowers.
Let them browse as around they course,
And what they eat not in my bowers
The while they do in my garden stay
On their clutching hoof they may carry away.
Let the stamping feet on my flowers fall
That none be left when I am gone;
No joy be there for my bridesmaids all—