«And not an insect's shrill small horn, Nor matin bird's new voice was borne « From herb nor thicket. Many a werst, Panting as if his heart would burst, The weary brute still stagger'd on; « And still we were-or seem'd-alone «At length, while reeling on our way, « Methought I heard a courser neigh, From out yon tuft of blackening firs. Is it the wind those branches stirs? ་ No, no! from out the forest prance "A trampling troop; I see them come! " In one vast squadron they advance! I strove to cry-my lips were dumb. The steeds rush on in plunging pride; «But where are they the reins to guide ? « A thousand horse-and none to ride! "With flowing tail and flying mane, 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, « On came the troop-they saw him stoop, ་ «His back with many a bloody thong: ་་ They stop-they start-they snuff the air, « Approach, retire, wheel round and round, "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, "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 My last of suns go down on me, Inevitable-even a boon, « Nor more unkind for coming soon; << Yet shunn'd and dreaded with such care, «At times both wish'd for and implored, « And welcome in no shape. ༥ ་་ And, strange to say, the sons of pleasure, « Die calm, or calmer oft than he Whose heritage was misery: «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 prize, <<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? XX. «The sun was sinking-still I lay ་ And my dim eyes of death had need, "No hope arose of being freed: "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 "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, "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, "And of the cold, dull, swimming, dense « Sensation of recurring sense, And then subsiding back to death, "And then again a little breath, « A little thrill, a short suspense, "An icy sickness curdling o'er My heart, and sparks that cross'd my brain« A gasp, a throb, a start of pain, « A sigh, and nothing more. XXI. « I woke Where was I?-Do I see And is it mortal yon bright eye, « A slender girl, long-hair'd, and tall, Sate watching by the cottage wall; The sparkle of her eye I caught, " R « For ever and anon she threw « A prying, pitying glance on me « With her black eye so wild and free : I gazed, and gazed, until I knew «No vision it could be,— «But that I lived, and was released My heavy eyes at length unseal'd, She smiled-and I essay'd to speak, « But fail'd—and she approach'd, and made With lip and finger signs that said, ■ I must not strive as yet to break |