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Now on the turf the Knight with parkling eyes Beholds the pringing Racers weep the ground; Now lightlie by the pot the foremot flies, And thondring on, the rattling hoofs rebound; The courers groan, the cracking whips reound: And gliding with the gale they ruh along Right to the tand. The Knight tares wildly round And, riing on his ell, his jocund tongue Is heard above the noie of all the noiie throng.

While thus the Knight perewd the haddow Joy, As youthly pirits thoughtlee led the way, Her gilden baits, ah, gilded to decoy! Kathrin did eve and morn before him lay, Watchfull to pleae, and ever kindlie gay; Till, like a thing bewitchd, the carelee wight Reigns himelf to her capricious way: Then oon, perdie, was never charme-bound pright In Necromancers thrall in halfe uch pitteous plight.