Ode LXII: Darkling the wraith came flitting by

Darkling the wraith came flitting by — what a wonder-night! and it glided on to where lay our saddles, but would not stay.

How didst thou find to our camp the path? never strong afoot wast thou, and we through Sagsag's ridges had pushed our way,

And our train was slow at the journey's end, and their beasts were spent, save one swift-foot for the women's litter was set apart.

Full many cups have I quaffed of wine when the feast was spread : full many deer have I frighted, riding a long-backed steed:

White they as pearls in the valley-bend, and my horse a hawk driving before him a pack of doves to the box-thorn bush —

As a hawk that hunts with his talons, deft on the wing to strike : when he clutches once in his swoop a dove, she moves no more !

Yea and if thou ask they will tell thee how when the host falls back, and the coward bears in his face the sign of his shrinking heart,

Our swords rain down on their heads a torrent of shattering blows, as the hail-storm batters the leather tent stretched taut with ropes.

And when afternoon brings home the camels in winter days, tripping short steps as they hurry in to the wattled booth,

Thou shalt find our cheer for the guest the best that the tribes can show : if milk there be not, we sit down straight to the arrow-game.