XXXI.

What clattering steed doth gallop fleet as air Through the Lanz valley, making earth to shake ’Neath his hoofs’ thunder? With that horseman dare None ride save one, the noblest, for his sake Light valuing life or limb. Thought-swift they make Sauróren. O’er the mountain crest they see Clausel’s brigades from Zabaldíca take The glen. Leaps from his horse that rider free To the bridge-parapet, and writes full rapidly.