Or the black stallion, with his tameless troop,
Fording a mountain-river in the dawn.
And, sometimes, as we toiled,
A terrible fleeting rapture
Would come upon me, when the Queen
Passed by us with her maidens;
Or paused, a moment, gazing,
With tranced and kindling eyes upon our labours:
But never did I dare, at any time,
To lift my eyes to hers,