And these at earth's breast ceaseless gnawed.

Farlaf's horse, now a wide ditch facing,

His tail shook mightily, and, bracing

Himself, in his teeth took the bit

And leapt across, nor was a whit

The worse for it. Not so his timid

And far less nimble rider who

Rolled down, head over heels, on to

The mud, and lay there, floundering in i

And waiting to be slain.... Rogdai

Storms up, a wrathful vision. "Die,

Poltroon!" he roars, and his swwd raises,

But then is brought up short; his gaze is

Fixed on his foe. Farlaf! Dismay,

Surprise, vexation, rage display

Themselves on his face. His teeth grinding

He swears aloud. We see him riding

Away in haste, inclined to laugh

Both at himself and at Farlaf.

Soon on a pathway upward winding

He met a hag with snowy hair,

A feeble, bent old thing. "Go there!"

She quavered, "That's where you will find him!"

And with her staff she pointed north.

Rogdai felt cheered; nay, more-elated.

Quite unaware that death awaited

Him up ahead, he started forth.

And our Farlaf? Upon his bed

Of mud we see him breathless lie.

"Where has my rival gone? Am I

Alive," he asks himself, "or dead?"

Then suddenly from overhead

A voice comes-it is hoarse, deep-soundins