And, save the scarce seen battlement On distant heights of some strong hold, Against the Tartars built of old, No trace of man: the year before A Turkish army had march'd o'er; And where the Spahi's hoof hath trod, The verdure flies the bloody sod. The sky was dull, and dim, and gray, And a low breeze crept moaning by I could have answer'd with a sigh; But fast we fled, away, away And I could neither sigh nor pray; And my cold sweat-drops fell like rain Upon the courser's bristling mane. But, snorting still with rage and fear, He flew upon his far career: At times I almost thought, indeed, He must have slacken'd in his speed; But no - my bound and slender frame Was nothing to his angry might, And merely like a spur became. Each motion which I made to free My swoln limbs from their agony Increased his fury and affright: I tried my voice, 't was faint and low, 430 440 450 459 Meantime my cords were wet with gore, XII 'We near'd the wild wood: 't was so wide, I saw no bounds on either side; 'T was studded with old sturdy trees, green, Luxuriant with their annual leaves, Which stands thereon like stiffen'd gore 470 480 The boughs gave way, and did not tear By night I heard them on the track, feet Their stealing, rustling step repeat. 490 499 530 But chill the air although in June; 540 550 And strove to wake; but could not make My senses climb up from below. I felt as on a plank at sea, When all the waves that dash o'er thee, But soon it pass'd, with little pain, XIV 'My thoughts came back; where was I? Cold, 571 And numb, and giddy: pulse by pulse Life reassumed its lingering hold, And throb by throb: till grown a pang Which for a moment would convulse, My blood reflow'd though thick and chill; My ear with uncouth noises rang, 580 My heart began once more to thrill; My sight return'd, though dim, alas! And thicken'd, as it were, with glass. Methought the dash of waves was nigh: There was a gleam too of the sky, Studded with stars; it is no dream; The wild horse swims the wilder stream! The bright broad river's gushing tide Sweeps, winding onward, far and wide, And we are half-way, struggling o'er To yon unknown and silent shore. The waters broke my hollow trance, And with a temporary strength 391 My stiffen'd limbs were rebaptized. My courser's broad breast proudly braves And dashes off the ascending waves, And onward we advance! We reach the slippery shore at length, A haven I but little prized, For all behind was dark and drear, And all before was night and fear. How many hours of night or day In those suspended pangs I lay, I could not tell; I scarcely knew If this were human breath I drew. XV 600 'With glossy skin, and dripping mane, And reeling limbs, and reeking flank, The wild steed's sinewy nerves still strain Up the repelling bank. We gain the top: a boundless plain Spreads through the shadow of the night, And onward, onward, onward, seems, Like precipices in our dreams, The fancied lights that flitting pass Our shut eyes in deep midnight, when Fever begins upon the brain; To stretch beyond the sight; 560 And here and there a speck of white, 610 'Onward we went — but slack and slow; A sickly infant had had power 620 630 His new-born tameness nought avail'd With feeble effort still I tried My limbs were only wrung the more, Which but prolong'd their pain. Before the eastern flame 640 And not an insect's shrill small horn, 670 I strove to cry - my lips were dumb. Came thickly thundering on, 690 699 His first and last career is done! On came the troop- they saw him stoop, They saw me strangely bound along His back with many a bloody thong. They stop they start- they snuff the air, Gallop a moment here and there, Approach, retire, wheel round and round, Then plunging back with sudden bound, Headed by one black mighty steed Who seem'd the patriarch of his breed, Without a single speck or hair Of white upon his shaggy hide. They snort- they foam-neigh― swerve I little deem'd another day 720 And there from morn till twilight bound, I felt the heavy hours toil round, With just enough of life to see My last of suns go down on me, In hopeless certainty of mind, That makes us feel at length resign'd To that which our foreboding years Presents the worst and last of fears Inevitable- even a boon, Nor more unkind for coming soon; Yet shunn'd and dreaded with such care, As if it only were a snare That prudence might escape: At times both wish'd for and implored, At times sought with self-pointed sword, Yet still a dark and hideous close To even intolerable woes, And welcome in no shape. And, strange to say, the sons of pleasure, 730 740 Hath nought to hope, and nought to leave; And, save the future (which is view'd Not quite as men are base or good, But as their nerves may be endued), With nought perhaps to grieve: 750 The wretch still hopes his woes must end, XVIII 761 'The sun was sinking still I lay I cast my last looks up the sky, 770 And there between me and the sun I saw the expecting raven fly, Who scarce would wait till both should die Ere his repast begun. He flew, and perch'd, then flew once more, I saw his wing through twilight flit, I could have smote, but lack'd the strength; But the slight motion of my hand, - Is something of a lovely star And then subsiding back to death, A little thrill, a short suspense, An icy sickness curdling o'er 790 My heart, and sparks that cross'd my brain A human face look down on me? Could not as yet be o'er. A slender girl, long-hair'd, and tall, A prying, pitying glance on me But that I lived, and was released 800 810 With lip and finger signs that said, I must not strive as yet to break The silence, till my strength should be Enough to leave my accents free. And then her hand on mine she laid, And smooth'd the pillow for my head, And stole along on tiptoe tread, And gently oped the door, and spake In whispers - ne'er was voice so sweet! Even music follow'd her light feet. But those she call'd were not awake, And she went forth; but, ere she pass'd, Another look on me she cast, Another sign she made, to say, That I had nought to fear, that all Were near at my command or call, And she would not delay Her due return: - while she was gone, Methought I felt too much alone. 820 830 840 850 ? His dreams were of Old England's welcome shore, 20 Of toils rewarded, and of dangers o'er; Pole. The worst was over, and the rest seem'd sure, And why should not his slumber be se cure? Alas! his deck was trod by unwilling feet, And wilder hands would hold the vessel's sheet; |