| Marko it grieved. He spake to the steed: | |
| | “A hundred and sixty years, |
| Said Marko to the vila: | |
| | “May thy throat ache for this! |
| Said the vila: | |
| | “Marko, my brother sworn, none shall take Dapple so. |
| He wept apace and spake apace: | |
| | “Ah, lying world, fair flower— |
| And he writes a letter: | |
| | “Whoever over Ùrvina shall fare |