"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; And I was then not what I seem,525 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, The tortures which beset my path,530 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, And trodden hard upon, is like535 The rattlesnake'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, I seem'd to sink upon the ground;540 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; I saw the trees like drunkards reel,545 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, I felt the blackness come and go,550 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, At the same time upheave and whelm,555 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 Fever begins upon the brain;560 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; And yet I do suppose we must565 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, And numb, and giddy: pulse by pulse570 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; My ear with uncouth[140] noises rang,575 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: There was a gleam too of the sky,580 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, And we are half-way, struggling o'er585 To yon unknown and silent shore. The waters broke my hollow trance, And with a temporary strength My stiffen'd limbs were rebaptized. My courser's broad breast proudly braves590 And dashes off the ascending waves, And onward we advance! We reach the slippery shore at length, A haven I but little prized, For all behind was dark and drear,595 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 If this were human breath I drew.600
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. We gain the top: a boundless plain605 Spreads through the shadow of the night, And onward, onward, onward, seems, Like precipices in our dreams, To stretch beyond the sight; And here and there a speck of white,610 Or scatter'd spot of dusky green, In masses broke into the light, As rose the moon upon my right. But nought distinctly seen In the dim waste would indicate615 The omen of a cottage gate; No twinkling taper from afar Stood like a hospitable star; Not even an ignis-fatuus[141] rose To make him merry with my woes:620 That very cheat had cheer'd me then! Although detected, welcome still, Reminding me, through every ill, Of the abodes of men.
XVI
"Onward we went—but slack and slow;625 His savage force at length o'erspent, The drooping courser, faint and low, All feebly foaming went. A sickly infant had had power To guide him forward in that hour;630 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. With feeble effort still I tried635 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, Which but prolong'd their pain.640 The dizzy race seem'd almost done, Although no goal was nearly won: Some streaks announced the coming sun— How slow, alas! he came! Methought that mist of dawning gray645 Would never dapple into day; How heavily it roll'd away— Before the eastern flame Rose crimson, and deposed the stars, And call'd the radiance from their cars,650 And filled 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 Which lay around—behind—before;655 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; No sign of travel—none of toil;660 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,[142] Panting as if his heart would burst,665 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 From out yon tuft of blackening firs.670 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! I strove to cry—my lips were dumb.675 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, Wide nostrils—never stretched by pain,680 Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein, And feet that iron never shod, And flanks unscarr'd by spur or rod, A thousand horse, the wild, the free, Like waves that follow o'er the sea,685 Came thickly thundering on, As if our faint approach to meet. The sight re-nerved my courser's feet, A moment staggering, feebly fleet, A moment, with a faint low neigh,690 He answer'd, and then fell; With gasps and glazing eyes he lay, And reeking limbs immoveable; His first and last career is done! On came the troop—they saw him stoop,695 They saw me strangely bound along His back with many a bloody thong: They stop—they start—they snuff the air, Gallop a moment here and there, Approach, retire, wheel round and round,700 Then plunging back with sudden bound, Headed by one black mighty steed Who seem'd the patriarch of his breed, Without a single speck or hair Of white upon his shaggy hide.705 They snort—they foam—neigh—swerve aside, And backward to the forest fly, By instinct, from a human eye.— They left me there to my despair, Link'd to the dead and stiffening wretch,710 Whose lifeless limbs beneath me stretch, Relieved from that unwonted weight, From whence I could not extricate Nor him nor me—and there we lay The dying on the dead!715 I little deem'd another day Would see my houseless, helpless head.
"And there from morn till twilight bound, I felt the heavy hours toil round, With just enough of life to see720 My last of suns go down on me, In hopeless certainty of mind, That makes us feel at length resign'd To that which our foreboding years Presents the worst and last of fears725 Inevitable—even a boon, Nor more unkind for coming soon; Yet shunn'd and dreaded with such care, As if it only were a snare That prudence might escape:730 At times both wish'd for and implored, At times sought with self-pointed sword, Yet still a dark and hideous close To even intolerable woes, And welcome in no shape.735 And, strange to say, the sons of pleasure, They who have revell'd beyond measure In beauty, wassail, wine, and treasure, Die calm, or calmer oft than he Whose heritage was misery:740 For he who hath in turn run through All that was beautiful and new, Hath nought to hope, and nought to leave; And, save the future (which is view'd Not quite as men are base or good,745 But as their nerves may be endued,) With nought perhaps to grieve:— The wretch still hopes his woes must end, And Death, whom he should deem his friend, Appears, to his distemper'd eyes,750 Arrived to rob him of his prize, The tree of his new Paradise. To-morrow would have given him all, Repaid his pangs, repair'd his fall; To-morrow would have been the first755 Of days no more deplored or curst, But bright, and long, and beckoning years, Seen dazzling through the mist of tears, Guerdon of many a painful hour; To-morrow would have given him power760 To rule, to shine, to smite, to save— And must it dawn upon his grave?