,,Which howls down from Siberia's waste, ,,Set thick with shrubs more young ,,Luxuriant with their annual leaves, 470 green, ,,Which stands thereon like stiffen'd gore ,,So cold and stark the raven's beak 480 „May peck unpierced each frozen cheek: ,,'Twas a wild waste of underwood, ,,The boughs gave way, and did not tear ,,My limbs; and I found strength to bear ,,My wounds, already scarr'd with cold ,,My bonds forbade to loose my hold. ,,Nor left us with the morning sun; ,,Behind I saw them, scarce a rood, ,,And through the night had heard their feet ,,Their stealing, rustling step repeat ,,Oh! how I wish'd for spear or sword, ,,At least to die amidst the horde, ,,And perish if it must be so 490 500 510 ,,Nor faster falls the blinding snow „Which whelms the peasant near the door „Than through the forest-paths he past — ,,Balk'd of its wish; or fiercer still ,,A woman piqued who has her will. 520 XIII. The wood was past; 'twas more than noon, ,,But chill the air, although in June; 530 ,,Thus bound in nature's nakedness; ,Beneath its woes a moment sunk? ,,The earth gave way, the skies roll'd round, ,,I seem'd to sink upon the ground; ,,But err'd, for I was fastly bound. „My heart turn'd sick, my brain grew sore, ,,And throbb'd awhile, then beat no more: ,,The skies spun like a mighty wheel; I saw the trees like drunkards reel, ,,And a slight flash sprang o'er my eyes, ,,Which saw no farther: he who dies ,,Can die no more than then I died. „O'ertortured by that ghastly ride, ,,I felt the blackness come and go, 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'or thee, ,,The fancied lights that flitting pass ,,Our shut eyes in deep midnight, when „Fever begins upon the brain; ,,But soon it pass'd, with little pain, ,,But a confusion worse than such: ,,I own that I should deem it much, ,,Dying, to feel the same again; ,,And yet I do suppose we must ,,Feel far more ere we turn to dust: ,,No matter; I have bared my brow Full in Death's face before and now. XIV. ,,My thoughts came back; where was I? Cold, ,,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, 560 570 |