I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;
‘Good speed!’ cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;
‘Speed!’ echoed the wall to us galloping through;
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest
And into the midnight we galloped abreast

Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit

’Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;
At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;
At Düffeld, ’twas morning as plain as could be;
And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime
So Joris broke silence with ‘Yet there is time!’

At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun
And against him the cattle stood black every one
To stare through the mist at us galloping past
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last
With resolute shoulders, each butting away
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray
And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;
And one eye’s black intelligence,—ever that glance
O’er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!
And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon
His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, ‘Stay spur!
Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault’s not in her
We’ll remember at Aix’—for one heard the quick wheeze
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank

So we were left galloping, Joris and I
Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh
’Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;
Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white
And ‘Gallop,’ gasped Joris, ‘for Aix is in sight!’

‘How they’ll greet us!’—and all in a moment his roan
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets’ rim
Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer;
Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood

And all I remember is, friends flocking round
As I sat with his head ’twixt my knees on the ground;
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine
Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent