14  
WHY JESUS WEPT. 
His dreams are made of !  Aye !  I shall endure ! 
I am destined Lord of many magic wills. 
Another Rosencreutz another order 
Founds — to a better end than his, be sure ! 
Away !  away, my lad !  and o’er the border 
I shall get myself a buxom bride, 
And ride — ride — ride ! 
 
He rises. 
Ride to the blacksmith at Gretna Green, 
Kiss a fair lady and find her a queen ! 
O a Queen, for certain !  It is I that ride, 
Ride in my youth and pride. 
With a long sword girt to my waist, 
And a strawberry mare sweet-paced, 
And a long night with no moon, no star ! 
I will plunder the traveller from afar ; — 
Aye !  and find him an ancient sage, 
Learn all his wisdom, marry his daughter, 
Become a king and a mage, 
Lord of Fire, Earth, Air, and Water ! 
Ho !  my horse, lads !  Away !  To the moor ! 
Ho !  there’s a fox i’ the hole, that’s sure. 
Flings swaggering out of the room.