Eques Temerarius

HE RODE — it was his joy to ride,
For he was great and rash of soul!
And there was none to let or guide
For him who held a star his goal.

He rode — he rode to right a wrong!
It was enough — he could not stay!
Whoever fell, his path along,
The Rider still must keep his way.

He rode — he rode free and aloof!
A steed he rode of heavenly race:
The flint-fire flashing from the hoof —
It flashed upon my fallen face!

What then? He hath attained his star,
He hath achieved his heart-sworn trust:
He mounts to where Immortals are;
But I am dust — blown on with dust!

He rode. His heart was rash and strong.
Let fall the unjust and the just!
He rode — he rode to right a wrong;
He spurned the earth — he spurned this dust!

I have no voice, save as the wind
Will cry for me, cry far and wide! —
Will say, " There was no ruth to bind —
It was the Rider's joy to ride! "
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