But not alone in point of speed
They sought to gain an equal meed;
For in the narrow lists of love
Dave Eccleston had cast the glove:
Though both had prayed, the blushing maid
As yet no preference betrayed,
But played them off, as women will,
One 'gainst the other one, until—
A day when she was sorely pressed—
To loving neither youth confessed;
But did exclaim—the wily dame!—
'Who wins this race, I'll bear his name!'
Her words were ringing through Carl's head
As o'er the frozen crust he sped,
But suddenly became aware
That not alone he travelled there:
He sudden spied, with swinging stride,
A stranger gliding by his side:
The breezes o'er each shoulder tossed
His beard, bediamonded with frost;
His eyes flashed strangely, bushy-browed;
His breath hung round him like a shroud;
He never spoke, nor silence broke,
But by the Dane sped stroke for stroke.
