But ever closer drew our enemies,
Till, on the level road toward the ford,
Merow and I gave our brave horses rein
And heard grow fainter the hoarse threats of those
Hired murderers, and won the goal at last,
Secure for night with wise old Gregory.
“Long after matins, in the carven choir,
Sweet with the scent of cedar, and the breath
Of incense lingering like a ghost of prayer,
Came Gregory, and spoke reproving me: