As he left the dead Hour on its desolate bier.
In casque and cuirass, white as snow,
Came, merrily, over the wold,
A maiden knight, with lance and shield,
And a form of manly mould,
And a beard of woven gold,
When—suddenly!—behold!
With a loud defiant cry,
And a tone of stern command,
The ancient knight, with lance in hand,