Of moonlight in the moonlit air:
She flung it wide: what saw she there?
Sir Elid in the moonlight's beam,
Stark, staring as if still a-dream
Rode downward towards the rushing stream.
His helm and corselet had he on,
And, in one gauntlet, silver-wan,
His bugle-horn was upward drawn.
Upon his horn he blew his best;
Then sang, it seemed, his merriest,