Thro weal or woe as may chance to be.”
She mounted on her milk-white steed,
She’s ta’en True Thomas up behind:
And aye, whene’er her bridle rung,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.
O they rade on, and farther on,—
The steed gaed swifter than the wind:
Until they reached a desart wide,
And living land was left behind.