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 brokе the brittle bright stubble likе chaff;
Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white
And ‘Gallop,’ gasped Joris, ‘for Aix is in sight!’