Regretting that green harbourage of joy
Strown with its fragrant herbs. The moonlight played
Between the branches swaying overhead,
To throw fantastic shadows on the ground,
And the shy horses restive grew with fright
When a wolf howled, and fear pursued our feet.
Quietly rode we down the dusky ways;
Till Merow paused and listened, and we heard
Behind us, muffled, or ringing on the stones,
The beat of many hoofs. Ah! then we rode