Oh! goodly truth in cavaliers of old!

  Rivals they were, to different faith were bred.

  Not yet the weary warriors' wounds were cold —

  Still smarting from those strokes so fell and dread.

  Yet they together ride by waste and wold,

  And, unsuspecting, devious dingle thread.

  Them, while four spurs infest his foaming sides,

  Their courser brings to where the way divides.