Part 23 (1/2)

”Boy, thou art right She hath given h at thee She is like a sweetheart to one to my heart if thou hadst conquered None but I can ride my Winnie mare”

R D BLACKMORE: ”Lorna Doone”

Full em of purest ray serene The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen And waste its sweetness on the desert air

GRAY

THE ARAB AND HIS STEED

My beautiful! my beautiful! that standest lossy neck, and dark and fiery eye; Fret not to roaed speed, I ain--thou'rt sold, my Arab steed

Fret not with that impatient hoof, snuff not the breezy wind, The further that thou fliest now, so far aer hath thy bridle-rein--thy old-- Fleet-limbed and beautiful! farewell! thou'rt sold, my steed, thou'rt sold!

Farewell! those free untired limbs full many a mile must roaer's home; Some other hand, less fond, must now thy corn and bed prepare; The silkysun shall dawn again, but never h the desert paths, where ont to be: Evening shall darken on the earth; and o'er the sandy plain, Soain

Yes, thou o! the wild free breeze, the brilliant sun and sky, Thy master's home--from all of these row less proud, thy step become less fleet, And vainly shalt thou arch thy neck, thy master's hand to lancing bright; Only in sleep shall hear again that step so fir ar, wake to feel--thou'rt sold, my Arab steed!

Ah! rudely then, unseen by me, some cruel handthy panting side, And the rich blood that's in thee swells in thy indignant pain, Till careless eyes, which rest on thee, may count each startled vein

Will they ill-use thee? If I thought--but no, it cannot be-- Thou art so swift, yet easy curbed; so gentle, yet so free

And yet, if haply, when thou'rt gone my lonely heart should yearn, Can the hand which casts thee from it now, command thee to return?

Return! alas! my Arab steed! what shall thy master do, When thou ert his all of joy, hast vanished from his view?

When the di tears, Thy bright fore appears?

Slow and unmounted will I roam, eary step alone, Where with fleet step and joyous bound thou oft hast borne reen well, I'll pause and sadly think: It was 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 er's power is strong, They te

Who said that I had given thee up, who said that thou wert sold?

'Tis false--'tis false, old

Thus, thus I leap upon thy back, and scour the distant plains, Aho overtakes us now shall claim thee for his pains!