Ah, little dost thou reck of me, of all my pleasures flown, But in thy pride dost only think, false lady, of thine own.

Then the bliss Of bearing him a sona noble boy, Bright as the day-star, shall transport thy soul With new delights, and little shalt thou reck Of the light sorrow that afflicts thee now At parting from thy father and thy friends.

Bat as the unseen feet propelled it upward the Red Axe took little reck of the head.