I never was in stirrups yet a tenant but at will;
Or, if you please, in artist terms, I never went a-straddle
On any horse without 'a want of keeping' in the saddle.
In short," and here I blush'd, abash'd and held my head full low,
"I'm one of those whose infant ears have heard the chimes of Bow!"
The lady smiled, as houris smile, adown from Turkish skies,
And beams of cruel kindness shone within her hazel eyes;
"Stranger," she said, "or rather say, my nearest, dearest friend,
There's something in your eyes, your air, and that high instep's bend,
That tells me you're of Arab race,—whatever spot of earth,