“To boat!” cried King Fergus, with eager haste,
And—“To horse!” when he touched the farther shore,
And furious he spurred through the forest waste,
As to Findhorn’s stream his swift course he bore.
The lovers from Dulsie’s wooded height
Saw Moray’s lord coming in kingly might.
’Twas better to tempt the swollen tide,
Than captive be torn from his bonny bride.
Harrold lifted Malvina to saddle again,
And down Dulsie’s slope urged his steed amain.