WHO is it rides with whip and spur-
Or madman, or king's messenger?

The night is near, the lights begin
To glimmer from the roadside inn,

And o'er the moorland, waste and wide,
The mists behind the horseman ride.

"Ho, there within — a stirrup-cup!
No time have I to sleep or sup.

"An honest cup! — and mingle well
The juices that have still the spell

"To banish doubt and care, and slay
The ghosts that prowl the king's highway."

"And wither dost thou ride, my friend?"
"My friend, to find the roadway's end."

His eyeballs shone: he caught and quaffed,
With scornful lips, the burning draught.

"Yea, friend, I ride to prove my life;
If there be guerdon worth the strife—

"If after loss, and after gain,
And after bliss, and after pain,

"There be no deeper draught than this—
No sharper pain — no sweeter bliss—

"Nor anything which yet I crave
This side, or yet beyond the grave—

"All this, all this I ride to know;
So pledge me, gray-beard, ere I go."

"But gold thou hast: and youth is thine,
And on thy breast the blazoned sign

"Of honor — yea, and Love hath bound,
With rose and leaf thy temples round.

"With youth, and name, and wealth in store,
And woman's love, what wilt thou more?"

"'What more?' 'what more?' thou gray-beard wight?
That something yet — that one delight—

"To know! to know! — although it be
To know but endless misery!

"The something that doth beckon still,
Beyond the plain, beyond the hill,

"Beyond the moon, beyond the sun,
Where yonder shining coursers run.

"Farewell! Where'er the pathway trend,
I ride, I ride, to find the end!"