My blood was boiling fast, to judge from noises in my ears;
I gasp'd as if in vacuo, and thrilling with despair,
Some secret Demon seem'd to pass his fingers through my hair.
I could not stir—I could not speak—I could not even see—
A sudden mist rose up between that awful Mare and me,
I tried to pray, but found no words—tho' ready ripe to weep,
No tear would flow,—o'er ev'ry sense a swoon began to creep,—
When lo! to bring my horrid fate at once unto the brunt,
Two Arabs seized me from behind, two others in the front,
And ere a muscle could be strung to try the strife forlorn,