Hark, how she neighs, as if for thee she knew that she was foal'd!"
And truly—I devoutly wish'd a blast of the simoom
Had stifled her!—the Mare herself appeared to mock my doom;
With many a bound she caper'd round and round me like a dance,
I feared indeed some wild caress would end the fearful prance,
And felt myself, and saw myself—the phantasy was horrid!—
Like old Redgauntlet, with a shoe imprinted on my forehead!
On bended knees, with bowing head, and hands uprais'd in pray'r,
I begg'd the turban'd Sultaness the issue to forbear;
I painted weeping orphan babes, around a widow'd wife,