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the lutin-steed.
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"They're gone!" old Margaret murmur'd,
And fierce the Mistral blew,
And spirit voices echo'd round,
"Gone! gone!" the long night through!—
And fierce the Mistral blew,
And spirit voices echo'd round,
"Gone! gone!" the long night through!—
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"She talk'd of wind and tempest,"
The careless wanderers cried,—
"Now never walk'd the moon in heaven,
With more resplendent pride!
The careless wanderers cried,—
"Now never walk'd the moon in heaven,
With more resplendent pride!
"Ha! there's old Caspar's horse,
His mane like midnight flows,
Mount! mount! away, my little steed!
How gallantly he goes!
His mane like midnight flows,
Mount! mount! away, my little steed!
How gallantly he goes!
"He'll bear us to the fountain;
He'll have a glorious ride!"
"Oh! brothers dear—I fear—I fear!"
The youthful Adolphe cried,—
He'll have a glorious ride!"
"Oh! brothers dear—I fear—I fear!"
The youthful Adolphe cried,—
