Speed, Malise, speed! the dun deer's hide 300
On fleeter foot was never tied.
Speed, Malise, speed! such cause of haste
Thine active sinews never braced.
Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast,
Burst down like torrent from its crest; 305
With short and springing footstep pass
The trembling bog and false morass;
Across the brook like roebuck bound,
And thread the brake like questing hound;
The crag is high, the scar is deep, 310
Yet shrink not from the desperate leap:
Parched are thy burning lips and brow.
Yet by the fountain pause not now;
Herald of battle, fate, and fear,
Stretch onward in thy fleet career! 315
The wounded hind thou track'st not now,
Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough,
Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace,
With rivals in the mountain race;
But danger, death, and warrior deed, 320
Are in thy course--speed, Malise, speed!