Had nerved him like the mountain-roe; | |
Nor faster falls the blinding snow | |
Which whelms the peasant near the door | |
Whose threshold he shall cross no more, | |
515 | Bewilder’d with the dazzling blast, |
Than through the forest-paths he past – | |
Untired, untamed, and worse than wild; | |
All furious as a favour’d child | |
Balk’d of its wish; or fiercer still – | |
520 | A woman piqued – who has her will. |
XIII | |
‘The wood was past; ’twas more than noon, | |
But chill the air, although in June; | |
Or it might be my veins ran cold — | |
Prolong’d endurance tames the bold; | |
525 | And I was then not what I seem, |
But headlong as a wintry stream, | |
And wore my feelings out before | |
I well could count their causes o’er: | |
And what with fury, fear, and wrath, | |
530 | The tortures which beset my path, |
Cold, hunger, sorrow, shame, distress, | |
Thus bound in nature’s nakedness; | |
Sprung from a race whose rising blood | |
When stirr’d beyond its calmer mood, | |
535 | And trodden hard upon, is like |
The rattle-snake’s, in act to strike, | |
What marvel if this worn-out trunk | |
Beneath its woes a moment sunk? | |
The earth gave way, the skies roll’d round, | |
540 | 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; | |
545 | 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, | |
550 | 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, | |
555 | 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 | |
560 | 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; | |
565 | 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, | |
570 | 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; | |
575 | My ear with uncouth noises rang, |
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; | |
580 | 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, | |
585 | 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 stiffen’d limbs were rebaptized. | |
590 | 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, | |
595 | 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 | |
600 | If this were human breath I drew. |
XV | |
‘With glossy skin, and dripping mane, | |
And reeling limbs, and reeking flank, | |
The wild steed’s sinewy nerves still strain | |
Up the repelling bank. | |
605 | 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; | |
610 | And here and there a speck of white, |
Or scatter’d spot of dusky green, | |
In masses broke into the light, | |
As rose the moon upon my right. | |
But nought distinctly seen | |
615 | 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 | |
620 | To make him merry with my woes: |
That very cheat had cheer’d me then! | |
Although detected, welcome still, | |
Reminding me, through every ill, | |
Of the abodes of men. | |
XVI | |
625 | ‘Onward we went — but slack and slow; |
His savage force at length o’erspent, | |
The drooping courser, faint and low, | |
All feebly foaming went. | |
A sickly infant had had power | |
630 | To guide him forward in that hour; |
But useless all to me. | |
His new-born tameness nought avail’d, | |
My limbs were bound; my force had fail’d, | |
Perchance, had they been free. | |
635 | With feeble effort 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, | |
640 | Which but prolong’d their pain: |
The dizzy race seem’d almost done, | |
Although no goal was nearly won: | |
Some streaks announced the coming sun – | |
How slow, alas! he came! | |
645 | Methought that mist of dawning gray |
Would never dapple into day; | |
How heavily it roll’d away – | |
Before the eastern flame | |
Rose crimson, and deposed the stars, | |
650 | And call’d the radiance from their cars, |
And fill’d the earth, from his deep throne, | |
With lonely lustre, all his own. | |
XVII | |
‘Up rose the sun; the mists were curl’d | |
Back from the solitary world | |
655 | 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; | |
660 | 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, | |
665 | 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, | |
670 | 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! | |
675 | 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, | |
680 | Wide nostrils — never stretch’d by pain, |