"Boy, thou art right. She hath given many the slip. Ha! ha! Vex not, Jack, that I laugh at thee. She is like a sweetheart to me, and better than any of them be. It would have gone to my heart if thou hadst conquered. None but I can ride my Winnie mare."
R. D. Blackmore: "Lorna Doone."
Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Gray
THE ARAB AND HIS STEED
My beautiful! my beautiful! that standest meekly by,
With thy proudly arched and glossy neck, and dark and fiery eye;
Fret not to roam the desert now, with all thy wingèd speed,
I may not mount on thee again—thou'rt sold, my Arab steed.
Fret not with that impatient hoof, snuff not the breezy wind,
The further that thou fliest now, so far am I behind;
The stranger hath thy bridle-rein—thy master hath his gold—
Fleet-limbed and beautiful! farewell! thou'rt sold, my steed, thou'rt sold!
Farewell! those free untired limbs full many a mile must roam,
To reach the chill and wintry sky which clouds the stranger's home;
Some other hand, less fond, must now thy corn and bed prepare;
The silky mane I braided once must be another's care.