Part 25 (1/2)
THE MIDNIGHT RIDE.
I.
Ruello, Ruello, devour the way!
On your breath bear us with you, O winds, as ye swell!
My darling, she lies near her death to-day,-- Gallop, gallop, gallop, Ruel!
That my spurs have torn open thy flanks, alas!
With thy long, sad neighing, thou need'st not tell; We have many a league yet of desert to pa.s.s,-- Gallop, gallop, gallop, Ruel!
Hear'st that mocking laugh overhead in s.p.a.ce?
Hear'st the shriek of the storm, as it drives, swift and fell?
A scent as of graves is blown into my face,-- Gallop, gallop, gallop, Ruel!
Ah, G.o.d! and if that be the sound I hear Of the mourner's song and the pa.s.sing-bell!
O heaven! What see I? The cross and the bier?-- Gallop, gallop, gallop, Ruel!
Thou falt'rest, Ruello? Oh, courage, my steed!
Wilt fail me, O traitor I trusted so well?
The tempest roars over us,--halt not, nor heed!-- Gallop, gallop, gallop, Ruel!
Gallop, Ruello, oh, faster yet!
Good G.o.d, that flas.h.!.+ O G.o.d! I am chill,-- Something hangs on my eyelids heavy as death,-- Gallop, gallop, gallop, Ruel!
II.
Smitten with the lightning stroke, From his seat the cavalier Fell, and forth the charger broke, Rider-free and mad with fear,-- Through the tempest and the night, Like a winged thing in flight.
In the wind his mane blown back, With a frantic plunge and neigh,-- In the shadow a shadow black, Ever wilder he flies away,-- Through the tempest and the night, Like a winged thing in flight.
From his throbbing flanks arise Smokes of fever and of sweat,-- Over him the pebble flies From his swift feet swifter yet,-- Through the tempest and the night, Like a winged thing in flight.
From the cliff unto the wood, Twenty leagues he pa.s.sed in all; Soaked with b.l.o.o.d.y foam and blood, Blind he struck against the wall: Death is in the seat; no more Stirs the steed that flew before.
III.
And the while, upon the colorless, Death-white visage of the dying Maiden, still and faint and fair, Rosy lights arise and wane; And her weakness lifting tremulous From the couch where she was lying Her long, beautiful, loose hair Strives she to adorn in vain.
”Mother, what it is has startled me From my sleep I cannot tell thee: Only, rise and deck me well In my fairest robes again.
For, last night, in the thick silences,-- I know not how it befell me,-- But the gallop of Ruel, More than once I heard it plain.
”Look, O mother, through yon shadowy Trees, beyond their gloomy cover: Canst thou not an atom see Toward us from the distance start?
Seest thou not the dust rise cloudily, And above the highway hover?
Come at last! 'T is he! 't is he!
Mother, something breaks my heart.”
Ah, poor child! she raises wearily Her dim eyes, and, turning slowly, Seeks the sun, and leaves this strife With a loved name in her breath.