Wide nostrils never stretch'd by pain, ,,Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein, ,,And feet that iron never shod,

,,And flanks unscarr'd by spur or rod. ,,A thousand horse, the wild, the free, „Like waves that follow o'er the sea,

,,Came thickly thundering on, ,,As if our faint approach to meet; ,,The sight re-nerved my courser's feet, ,,A moment staggering, feebly fleet, ,,A moment, with a faint low neigh,

,,He answer'd, and then fell; ,,With gasps and glazing eyes he lay, ,,And reeking limbs immoveable, ,,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,

680

690

,,Approach, retire, wheel round and round, 700

,,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 aside,

,,And backward to the forest fly,

,,By instinct, from a human eye.

,,They left me there, to my despair,

„Link'd to the dead and stiffening wretch, 710

Whose lifeless limbs beneath me stretch,

,,Relieved from that unwonted weight,
,,From whence I could not extricate
,,Nor him nor me and there we lay,

The dying on the dead!

,,I little deem'd another day

,,Would see my houseless, helpless head,

„And there from morn till twilight bound,

,,I felt the heavy hours toil round,

,,With just enough of life to see

Vol. VIII.

720

G

„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 iu no shape.

,,And, strange to say, the sons of pleasure,
„They who have revell'd beyond measure
,,In beauty, was sail, wine, and treasure,
,,Die calm, or calmer, oft than he

730

,,Whose heritage was misery:

740

,,For he who hath in turn run through

,,All that was beautiful and new,

,,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 :

,,The wretch still hopes his woes must end,

,,And Death, whom he should deem his friend,

,,Appears, to his distemper'd eyes,

,,Arrived to rob him of his prizé,
,,The tree of his new Paradise.

,,To-morrow would have given him all,
,,Repaid his pangs, repair'd his fall;
,,To-morrow would have been the first

,,Of days no more deplored or curst,
,,But bright, and long, and beckoning years,
,,Seen dazzling through the mist of tears,
,,Guerdon of many a painful hour;

,,To-morrow would have given him power
,,To rule, to shine, to smite, to save-
,,And must it dawn upon his grave?

XVIII.

750

769

"I thought to mingle there our clay;
,,And my dim eyes of death had need,
,,No hope arose of being freed:

,,I cast my last looks up the sky,

„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, „And each time nearer than before;

„I saw his wing through twilight flit,

„And once so near me he alit

770

,,I could have smote, but lack'd the strength;

,,But the slight motion of my hand,

,,And feeble scratching of the sand,

,,The exerted throat's faint struggling noise, 780 „Which scarcely could be call'd a voice, ,,Together scared him off at length.

,,I know no more

my latest dream

,,Is something of a lovely star

,,Which fix'd my dull eyes from afar,

,,And went and came with wandering beam,