Too far, alas! he has betrayed ye:
Follow the flames, that wave before ye;
Sometimes seven, and sometimes one;
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry on.
See, see the footsteps plain appearing,
That way Oswald chose for flying;
Firm is the turf, and fit for bearing,
Where yonder pearly dews are lying.
Far he cannot hence be gone;
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry on.