Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/139



His steed hurries homewards, Darkling and dim; Right fearful it prances With Halbert the Grim.

Still fiercer it tramples, The spur gores its side; Now downward and downward Grim Halbert doth ride.

The brown wood is threaded, The grey flood is past. Yet hoarser and wilder Moans ever the blast.

No star lends its taper, No moon sheds her glow; For dark is the dull path That Baron must go.

Though starless the sky, and No moon shines abroad, Yet, flashing with fire, all At once gleams the road.