"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 slackened in his speed;
my bound and slender frame

But no,

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,
But yet he swerved as from a blow;
And, starting to each accent, sprang
As from a sudden trumpet's clang;
Meantime my cords were wet with gore,
Which, oozing through my limbs, ran o'er;
And in my tongue the thirst became
A something fierier far than flame.

"We neared the wild wood, -'t was so wide,

I saw no bounds on either side;
'T was studded with old sturdy trees,
That bent not to the roughest breeze
Which howls down from Siberia's waste,
And strips the forest in its haste,
But these were few and far between,

Set thick with shrubs more young and green,
Luxuriant with their annual leaves,

Ere strown by those autumnal eves
That nip the forest's foliage dead,
Discolored with a lifeless red,
Which stands thereon like stiffened gore
Upon the slain when battle's o'er,
And some long winter's night hath shed
Its frost o'er every tombless head,
So cold and stark the raven's beak
May peck unpierced each frozen cheek:
'T was a wild waste of underwood,
And here and there a chestnut stood,
The strong oak, and the hardy pine;
But far apart, and well it were,
Or else a different lot were mine,

--

The boughs gave way, and did not tear My limbs; and I found strength to bear My wounds, already scarred with cold, My bonds forbade to loose my hold. We rustled through the leaves like wind, Left shrubs and trees and wolves behind; By night I heard them on the track, Their troop came hard upon our back With their long gallop, which can tire The hound's deep hate, and hunter's fire; Where'er we flew they followed on, Nor left us with the morning sun; Behind I saw them, scarce a rood,

"What marvel if this worn-out trunk
Beneath its woes a moment sunk?
The earth gave way, the skies rolled round,
I seemed to sink upon the ground;
But erred, for I was fastly bound.
My heart turned sick, my brain grew sore,
And throbbed 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,

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,
At the same time upheave and whelm,
And hurl thee towards a desert realm.
My undulating life was as

The fancied lights that flitting pass
Our shut eyes in deep midnight, when
Fever begins upon the brain;
But soon it passed, 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.

"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,

My blood reflowed, though thick and chill; My ear with uncouth noises rang;

My heart began once more to thrill;
My sight returned, though dim; alas!
And thickened, 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

My stiffened 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.

"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,

To stretch beyond the sight;
And here and there a speck of white,
Or scattered spot of dusky green,
In masses broke into the light
As rose the moon upon my right.
But naught distinctly seen
In the dim waste would indicate
The omen of a cottage gate;
No twinkling taper from afar
Stood like a hospitable star;
Not even an ignis-fatuus rose
To make him merry with my woes;
That very cheat had cheered me then!
Although detected, welcome still,
Reminding me, through every ill,
Of the abodes of men.

-

His new-born tameness naught availed,
My limbs were bound; my force had failed,
Perchance, had they been free.

With feeble efforts still I tried
To rend the bonds so starkly tied,

But still it was in vain ;

My limbs were only wrung the more,
And soon the idle strife gave o'er,

Which but prolonged their pain;
The dizzy race seemed almost done,
Although no goal was nearly won;
Some streaks announced the coming sun,
How slow, alas! he came !
Methought that mist of dawning gray
Would never dapple into day;
How heavily it rolled away,

Before the eastern flame

Rose crimson, and deposed the stars,

And called the radiance from their cars, And filled the earth, from his deep throne, With lonely lustre, all his own.

"Up rose the sun; the mists were curled
Back from the solitary world
Which lay around behind - before.
What booted it to traverse o'er
Plain, forest, river? Man nor brute,
Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot,
Lay in the wild luxuriant soil;
No sign of travel, none of toil;
The very air was mute;

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 staggered on;
And still we were, or seemed, 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 stretched by pain,
Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein,
And feet that iron never shod,

And flanks unscarred 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 renerved my courser's feet,
A moment staggering, feebly fleet,
A moment, with a faint low neigh,
He answered and then fell :
With gasps and glazing eyes he lay,
And reeking limbs immovable,

--

--

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 seemed 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,
Linked 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 deemed 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.

still I lay

"The sun was sinking,
Chained to the chill and stiffening steed;
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 perched, 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 lacked 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 called a voice,
Together scared him off at length.

-

I know no more, my latest dream
Is something of a lovely star

Which fixed 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

A human face look down on me?
And doth a roof above me close?
Do these limbs on a couch repose?
Is this a chamber where I lie?
And is it mortal yon bright eye,
That watches me with gentle glance?
I closed my own again once more,
As doubtful that the former trance
Could not as yet be o'er.

A slender girl, long-haired and tall,
Sate watching by the cottage wall;
The sparkle of her eye I caught,
Even with my first return of thought;
For ever and anon she threw

A prying, pitying glance on me
With her black eyes so wild and free:
I gazed and gazed, until I knew

No vision it could be,

But that I lived; and was released
From adding to the vulture's feast:

And when the Cossack maid beheld

My heavy eyes at length unsealed,

She smiled,

and I essayed to speak,

But failed, and she approached, and made 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 smoothed 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 followed her light feet;

But those she called were not awake, And she went forth; but, ere she passed, Another look on me she cast,

Another sign she made, to say,
That I had naught 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.

O, tell me how does thy lady gay,
And what may thy tidings be?"

"My lady she is all woe-begone,

And the tears they fall from her eyne; And aye she laments the deadly feud Between her house and thine.

"And here she sends thee a silken scarf Bedewed with many a tear,

And bids thee sometimes think on her, Who loved thee so dear.

"And here she sends thee a ring of gold,
The last boon thou mayst have,
And bids thee wear it for her sake,
When she is laid in grave.

"For, ah! her gentle heart is broke,
And in grave soon must she be,
Sith her father hath chose her a new, new love,
And forbid her to think of thee.

"Her father hath brought her a carlish knight,
Sir John of the north countréy,
And within three days she must him wed,
Or he vows he will her slay."

"Now hie thee back, thou little foot-page,
And greet thy lady from me,

And tell her that I, her own true-love,
Will die, or set her free.

"Now hie thee back, thou little foot-page,
And let thy fair lady know

This night will I be at her bower windów,
Betide me weal or woe."

The boy he tripped, the boy he ran,

He neither stint nor stayed

Until he came to fair Emmeline's bower,
When kneeling down he said, —

"O lady, I've been with thy own true-love, And he greets thee well by me;

This night will he be at thy bower windów,
And die, or set thee free."

Now day was gone, and night was come,
And all was fast asleep,

All save the Lady Emmeline,

Who sat in her bower to weep:

And soon she heard her true-love's voice
Low whispering at the wall,
"Awake, awake, my dear ladyé,
"T is I, thy true-love, call.
"Awake, awake, my lady dear,

Come, mount this fair palfráy!
This ladder of ropes will let thee down,
I'll carry thee hence away."