The Star of Light begins his course,
The brave one mounts upon his horse.
He drives his spurs into its flanks,
And rides away to join the ranks.
Happy the maid that loveth thee,
When shall thy heart’s desire be?
There comes no news from far away,
Our brave ones rest not from the fray.
’Tis long that sleep my eyes doth flee—
Our foemen press unceasingly.