XXVII

The Black Riders and Other Lines (1895)

A youth in apparel that glitteredWent to walk in a grim forest.There he met an assassinAttired all in garb of old days;He, scowling through the thickets,And dagger poised quivering,Rushed upon the youth.”Sir,” said this latter,“I am enchanted, believe me,To die, thus,In this medieval fashion, According to the best legends;Ah, what joy!”Then took he the wound, smiling,And died, content.