The Zealous Envoys

Where sparkle the flowers,
Here over the moor, there down in the vale,
Forth sally the envoys,
Each anxious alone lest in aught he fail.

"My horses are young ones, —
The reins, three pairs, as if newly tanned;
Post-haste I am driving,
And pushing my quest upon every hand."

"My horses are dappled, —
The reins, three pairs, as of silken braid;
Post-haste I am driving;
All round are my plans and my reckonings made."

"My horses are piebalds, —
The reins, three pairs, all glossy and smart;
Post-haste I am driving,
And matters well weighing in every part."

"My horses are brindled, —
The reins, three pairs, well balanced in hand;
Post-haste I am driving,
Advising, consulting, throughout the land."