XXXI.

Then dimly dropped his eyes away From welkin unto hill-- Ha! who rides there?--the page is 'ware, Though the cry at his heart is still: And the page seeth all and the knight seeth none, Though banner and spear do fleck the sun, And the Saracens ride at will.

He speaketh calm, he speaketh low,-- "Ride fast, my master, ride, Or ere within the broadening dark The narrow shadows hide." "Yea, fast, my page, I will do so, And keep thou at my side."