University of Virginia Library

The streams of Wharf roared not in rapid flood,
But sung in semichorus through the wood.
The hunters saw him rise the western hill,
Then those were tried who had true horsemen's skill.

31

Clifford stopped not at Wharf to ask how deep,
When each had swiftly galloped down the steep,
But crossed the ford, and on the sporting day,
His followers whitened Wharf's broad streams with spray.
The waters curled around each horse's mane,
While the beat foam fell on their heads like rain;
But soon all forded safe, and every care
Was thrown like feathers to the empty air.