VII.
Still unflinching and free through the moonlight he goes,
And each pulse with the hot flush of eagerness glows.
Now a glance at the path where his gallant steed flies,
Now a gleam at the weird, spectral forms that arise
On the dim, rugged slopes, then still onward and on,
Till he nears the abyss, and its gaping jaws yawn
On his sight; but the rider well knows it is there,
And his speed is soon cautiously checked to prepare
For the desperate leap; he must now put to proof