The Bearer of Bad Tidings

The evening sun is setting,
But lo, I must press on.
My sleep, this night forgetting — 
I race to meet the dawn.
The moon will soon be guiding
My path as darkness grows;
For bring I must the tidings
Of how the battle goes.
 
I’m flying like an arrow
Across the countryside,
Exhausted to the marrow
And weary from the ride.
But yet I must keep riding
As long as my strength flows,
To bring my king the tidings
Of how the battle goes.
 
A subject to my master,
I’m bound to serve my lord,
Though message of disaster
Could end my life by sword.
Yet I’ve no thoughts of hiding — 
My gallop never slows.
I’ll boldly bring the tidings
Of how the battle goes.
 
I’ve changed my horse three times now,
But changed my course — not I.
The sun — oh how it climbs now
Into the eastern sky.
Through streams my steed is striding,
That soak my dusty clothes;
Still bring I must the tidings
Of how the battle goes.
 
I see my kingdom nearing,
I see the gated wall;
And after one more clearing
I’ll stand within the hall.
The king will be presiding,
With plans to quell his foes;
‘Tis there I’ll bring the tidings
Of how the battle goes.