Rushing wings of phantom hosts

Overhead; and whispering ghosts,

Outcasts of forgotten tombs

Wandering through the forest glooms,

Crossed our path; and demons grim

Hung on every creaking limb.

Then how glad were we to near

Homely ways and human cheer,

When, beyond the forest bounds,

Once again familiar sounds

Reached us, and the end of day

Glimmered on horizons grey,

Over uplands far away.{28}

{28}

Golden morrows showed no mark,

Glittering pathways gave no trace,

Where those legions of the dark

Made their noonday hiding-place.

Where the elfin hosts had rushed,

Where had fallen the wizard bane

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