Throughout the land his master sought,
With love that cannot tire.
And as he rode by Helléan’s wood,
He to himself did sigh:
“Though I have slain his murderer, yet
My dear lord lost have I.”
Then to him from the forest came
A wild and plaintive neigh,
Whereat his horse, with answering cry,
Snuffing the wind, his head thrown high,
Sped, with a bound, away.
Away they sped the greenwood through,
Until they reached the spot
Where the black steed of Lez-Breiz stood,
But them he heeded not.
The charger stood the fountain by,
He neither drank nor fed;
But with his hoofs he tore the ground,
With sad and downcast head;