My gallant courser swift and good
Through story-land conveys me;
The mystic lady of the wood
With ruinic staff delays me;
The water-nisse sings her lays
Beside the fairy fountain;
The golden-antlered white stag plays
In sunlight on the mountain.
Deep down in caverns I behold
Brown kobolds evil scheming;
I see their hoards of hidden gold
Like coals of red fire gleaming.
The speech of birds and beasts I know,
The lore of trees and flowers;
I use all magic herbs that grow -
Their good and evil powers.
To join his midnight gallop wild
The Huntsman oft invites me;
Upon the moonlit meadows mild
The Elfin dance delights me;
The gray-haired witch upon her fire
A cheering draught can brew me;
The crested dragon calms his ire,
And fawning grovels to me.
My courser starts, and whinnies clear;
He spurns the Earth's dominions;
Upon his shoulders broad appear
Two spreading snow-white pinions.
Swift as the storm, away we fly
Through measureless expanses -
Ah no! at home in bed I lie
And dream my pleasant fancies.