They galloped back o'er hill and dale,
Silver bells are ringing;
In soft gusts came the southern gale,
Silver bells are ringing.
The trembling king knelt down before
The Wise Man at the palace-door:
"Oh, Wise Man! art thou truly wise—
Find out my child with thy bright eyes!"
"Thy daughter clings to carven stone,
White dove-wings from her shoulders