The Equinox (Volume I, Number III)

50 THE HIGH HISTORY OF GOOD And eager hope in brilliance burns Within the circle of his brows As fast he flies, the snow he spurns. Ah! what a youth and strength he vows To the achievement of the quest ! And now the horrid height allows His mastery: day by day from crest To crest he hastens: faster fly His feet: his body knows not rest, Until with magic speed they ply Like oars the snowy waves, surpass In one day’s march the galaxy Of Europe’s starry mountain mass. “Now,” quoth he, “let me find the quest!” The Beast sterte up. Sir Knight, alas! Day after day they race, nor rest Till seven days were fairly done. Then doth the Questing Marvel crest The ridge: the knight is well outrun. Now, adding laughter to its din, Like some lewd comet at the sun, Around the panting paladin It runs with all its splendid speed. Yet, knowing that he may not win,