I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight. Then shortened each stirrup and set the pique right, So we were left galloping, Joris and I, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; Rebuckled the check-strap, chained slacker The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh; Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, And his low head and crest, just one sharp Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and ear bent back all, Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer Clapped my hands, laughed and sung, any noise, bad or good, Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. By Hasselt Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, And all I remember is friends flocking round, |