For fat John’s soul, he had been seize’d with qualms,
Thinking it would be rash to tarry there;—
And having, prudently, resolve’d on flight,
Knock’d up a neighbouring miller, in the night,
And borrow’d his grey Mare.
Thus, trotting off,—beneath a row of trees
He saw “a sight that made his marrow freeze!”
A furious Warrior follow’d him, in mail,
Upon a Charger, close at his Mare’s tail!