And sitting down by the green well, I’ll pause, and sadly think,—
“’Twas here he bowed his glossy neck when last I saw him drink.”
When last I saw thee drink!—Away! the fevered dream is o’er!
I could not live a day, and know that we should meet no more;
They tempted me, my beautiful! for hunger’s power is strong—
They tempted me, my beautiful! but I have loved too long.
Who said that I had given thee up? Who said that thou wert sold?
’Tis false! ’tis false! my Arab steed! I fling them back their gold!
Thus—thus, I leap upon thy back, and scour the distant plains!
Away! who overtakes us now shall claim thee for his pains.