Riding Together.

Waikato Times, Volume XXIII, Issue 1893, 23 August 1884, Page 6 (Supplement)

Riding Together.

For many, many days together The wind blew steadily from the east, For many days hot grew the weather, About the time of Our Lady's Feast. For many days we rode together, Yet met we neither friend nor foe ; Hotter and clearer grew the weather, Steadily did the east wind blow. "We saw the trees in hot, bright weather, Clear cut, with shadows very black, As freely we rode on together, With helms unlaced and bridles slack. And often, as we rode together, We, looking down the green banked stream, Saw flowers in the sunny weather, And saw the babbles making bream ; And in the night lay down together And hung above our heads the rood, Or watched night long in the dewy weather, The while the moon did watch the wood. ®ur spears stood bright and thick together, Straight out the banners streamed behind, Aa we galloped on in the sunny weather, With faces turned toward the wind. Down sank our thrde score spears together, As thick we saw the pagans tide ; His eager face, in the clear fresh weather, Shone out that last time by my side. Up the sweep of the Jbridse we dashed together — It rocked to the crash of the meeting spears ; Down rain the buds of the dear Spring weather ; The elm tree flowers fell like tears. There, as we rolled and writhed together, I threw my arms above my head, For close by my side, in the lovely weather, I saw him reel and fall back dead. I and the slayer met together, He Awaited the death stroke there in his place, With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather, • Gaping 'mazed at my madden6d face. Madly I fought, as we fought together ; In vain ; the little Christian band The pagans drowned, as in atormy weather The river drowns low lying land. They bound my blood-stained hands together, They bound his corpse to nod by my side ; Then on we rode, in the bright March weather, With clash of oymbals did we fide. We ride no more — no more together ; My prison bars are thick and strong ; I take no haed of any weather ; The sweet saints grant I live not long 1 — Bi) William Morris.