Threading the mazes of the stream
 Like one who wanders in a dream. 
 Long miles he ran, the stream beside,
 Which this way, that way, turned and sped,
 And called and sang, a noisy guide. 
 At last its vagrant dances led
 To where the thick mimosas’ shade
 Circled and fringed an open glade;
 There the wild streamlet danced away,
 The moon was shining strangely white,
 And by its fitful, gleaming ray
 The shepherd saw a wondrous sight;
 In the glade’s midst, each on his mat,
 A group of armed warriors sat,
 White-robed, majestic, with deep eyes
 Fixed on him with a stern surprise;
 And in their midst an aged chief
 Enthroned sat, whose beard, like foam,
 Caressed his mighty knees.  As leaf
 Shakes in the wind the shepherd shook,
 And veiled his eyes before that look,
 And prayed, and thought upon his home,
 Nor spoke, nor moved, till the old man,
 In voice like waterfall, began: 
 “Shepherd, how names himself thy king?”
 “Ma-anda,” answered, shuddering,
 The shepherd.  “Good, thou speakest well. 
 And now, my son, I bid thee tell
 Thy first king’s name.”  “It was Kintu.” 
 “’Tis rightly said, thou answerest true. 
 Hark!  To Ma-anda, Kintu’s son,
 Hasten, and bid him, fearing naught,
 Come hither, taking thee for guide;
 Thou and he, not another one,
 Not even a dog may run beside! 
 Long has Ma-anda Kintu sought
 With spell and conjuration dim,
 Now Kintu has a word for him. 
 Go, do thy errand, haste thee hence,
 Kintu insures thy recompense.” 
 All night the shepherd ran, star-led,
 All the hot day he hastened straight,
 Nor stopped for sleep, nor stopped for bread,
 Until he reached the city gate,
 And saw red rays of evening fall
 On the leaf-hutted capital. 
 He sought the king, his tale he told. 
 Ma-anda faltered not, nor stayed. 
 He seized his spear, he left the tent: 
 Shook off the brown arms of his queens,
 Who clasped his knees with wailing screams;
 On pain of instant death forbade
 That man should spy or follow him;
 And down the pathway, arching dim,
 Fearless and light of heart and bold
 Followed the shepherd where he went.

 But one there was who loved his king
 Too well to suffer such strange thing,—­
 The chieftain of the host was he,
 Next to the monarch in degree;
 And, fearing wile or stratagem
 Menaced the king, he followed them
 With noiseless tread and out of sight. 
 So on they fared the forest through,
 From evening shades to dawning light,
 From damning to the dusk and dew,—­
 The unseen follower and the two. 
 Ofttimes the king turned back to scan
 The path, but never saw he man. 
 At last the forest-guarded space
 They reached, where, ranged in order, sat,
 Each couched upon his braided mat,
 The white-robed warriors, face to face