The King Of Denmark’s Ride

RD was brought to the Danish king      (Hurry!)  That the love of his heart lay suffering,  And pin’d for the comfort his voice would bring;      (Oh! ride as though you were flying!)Better he loves each golden curl  On the brow of that Scandinavian girl  Than his rich crown jewels of ruby and pearl;      And his rose of the isles is dying!    Thirty nobles saddled with speed,    (Hurry!)  Each one mounting a gallant steed  Which he kept for battle and days of need;      (Oh! ride as though you were flying!)  Spurs were struck in the foaming flank;

Worn-out chargers stagger’d and sank;  Bridles were slacken’d, and girths were burst;  But ride as they would, the king rode first,      For his rose of the isles lay dying!    His nobles are beaten, one by one;    (Hurry!)  They have fainted, and falter’d, and homeward gone;  His little fair page now follows alone,      For strength and for courage trying.  The king look’d back at that faithful child;

Wan was the face that answering smil’d;  They passed the drawbridge with clattering din,  Then he dropp’d; and only the king rode in      Where his rose of the isles lay dying!    The king blew a blast on his bugle horn;    (Silence!)  No answer came; but faint and forlorn  An echo return’d on the cold gray morn,      Like the breath of a spirit sighing.  The castle portal stood grimly wide;

None welcom’d the king from that weary ride;  For dead, in the light of the dawning day,  The pale sweet form of the welcomer lay,      Who had yearn’d for his voice while dying!    The panting steed, with a drooping crest,    Stood weary.  The king return’d from her chamber of rest,  The thick sobs choking in his breast;      And, that dumb companion eyeing,  The tears gush’d forth which he strove to check;

He bowed his head on his charger’s neck:  “O steed—that every nerve didst strain,  Dear steed, our ride hath been in vain      To the halls where my love lay dying!”