The happy page, who was the lord
Of one soft heart and his own sword,
And had no other gem nor wealth
Save nature's gift of youth and health.
We met in secret - doubly sweet,
Some say, they find it so to meet;
I know not that I would have given
My life but to have call'd her mine
In the full view of earth and heaven;
For I did oft and long repine
That we could only meet by stealth.

VIII

" For lovers there are many eyes,
And such there were on us; the devil
On such occasions should be civil;
The devil! I'm loth to do him wrong,
It might be some untoward saint,
Who would not be at rest too long

But to his pious bile gave vent

But one fair night, some lurking spies
Surprised and seized us both.

The Count was something more than wroth;

I was unarm'd; but if in steel,
All cap-à-pie from head to heel,

What 'gainst their numbers could I do? 'T was near his castle, far away

From city or from succour near,
And almost on the break of day.
I did not think to see another,

My moments seem'd reduced to few;
And with one prayer to Mary Mother,
And, it may be, a saint or two,
As I resign'd me to my fate,
They led me to the castle gate:

Theresa's doom I never knew,
Our lot was henceforth separate.
An angry man, ye may opine,
Was he, the proud Count Palatine;
And he had reason good to be,

But he was most enraged lest such
An accident should chance to touch
Upon his future pedigree;

Nor less amazed, that such a blot
His noble 'scutcheon should have got,
While he was highest of his line;

Because unto himself he seem'd The first of men, nor less he deem'd In others' eyes, and most in mine. 'Sdeath! with a page - perchance a king

Had reconciled him to the thing;
But with a stripling of a page!
I felt - but cannot paint his rage.

310

320

331

340

350

'Away!-away!- My breath was gone

380

I saw not where he hurried on:
'T was scarcely yet the break of day,
And on he foam'd- away!-away !
The last of human sounds which rose,
As I was darted from my foes,
Was the wild shout of savage laughter,
Which on the wind came roaring after
A moment from that rabble rout.
With sudden wrath I wrench'd my head,
And snapp'd the cord, which to the mane
Had bound my neck in lieu of rein,

And, writhing half my form about,
Howl'd back my curse; but 'midst the

410

They little thought that day of pain, When launch'd, as on the lightning's flash, They bade me to destruction dash, That one day I should come again, With twice five thousand horse, to thank The Count for his uncourteous ride. They play'd me then a bitter prank, When, with the wild horse for my guide, They bound me to his foaming flank. At length I play'd them one as frankFor time at last sets all things even And if we do but watch the hour, There never yet was human power Which could evade, if unforgiven, The patient search and vigil long Of him who treasures up a wrong.

XI

420

'Away, away, my steed and I,
Upon the pinions of the wind,
All human dwellings left behind;
We sped like meteors through the sky,
When with its crackling sound the night
Is chequer'd with the northern light.
Town-village-none were on our track,
But a wild plain of far extent,
And bounded by a forest black;

And, save the scarce seen battlement
On distant heights of some strong hold,
Against the Tartars built of old,
No trace of man: the year before
A Turkish army had march'd o'er;
And where the Spahi's hoof hath trod,
The verdure flies the bloody sod.
The sky was dull, and dim, and gray,
And a low breeze crept moaning by
I could have answer'd with a sigh;
But fast we fled, away, away
And I could neither sigh nor pray;
And my cold sweat-drops fell like rain
Upon the courser's bristling mane.
But, snorting still with rage and fear,
He flew upon his far career:

But no- - my

430

440

At times I almost thought, indeed,
He must have slacken'd in his speed;
bound and slender frame 450
Was nothing to his angry might,
And merely like a spur became.
Each motion which I made to free
My swoln limbs from their
agony
Increased his fury and affright:
I tried my voice,-'t was faint and low,
But yet he swerved as from a blow;
And, starting to each accent, sprang
As from a sudden trumpet's clang.

459

Meantime my cords were wet with gore,
Which, oozing through my limbs, ran o'er;
And in my tongue the thirst became
A something fierier far than flame.

XII

'We near'd the wild wood: 't was so wide,

I saw no bounds on either side;

"T was studded with old sturdy trees,
That bent not to the roughest breeze
Which howls down from Siberia's waste
And strips the forest in its haste;
But these were few and far between,
Set thick with shrubs more young and

green,

Luxuriant with their annual leaves,
Ere strown by those autumnal eves
That nip the forest's foliage dead,
Discolour'd with a lifeless red,

Which stands thereon like stiffen'd gore
Upon the slain when battle 's o'er,
And some long winter's night hath shed
Its frost o'er every tombless head,
So cold and stark the raven's beak
May peck unpierced each frozen cheek.
'T was a wild waste of underwood,
And here and there a chestnut stood,
The strong oak, and the hardy pine;
But far apart and well it were,
Or else a different lot were mine:

470

480

The boughs gave way, and did not tear
My limbs; and I found strength to bear
My wounds already scarr'd with cold—
My bonds forbade to loose my hold.
We rustled through the leaves like wind,
Left shrubs, and trees, and wolves be-
hind;

By night I heard them on the track,
Their troop came hard upon our back,
With their long gallop which can tire
The hound's deep hate and hunter's fire.
Where'er we flew they follow'd on,
Nor left us with the morning sun;
Behind I saw them, scarce a rood,
At day-break winding through the wood,
And through the night had heard their

feet

490

499

noon,

530

But chill the air although in June;
Or it might be my veins ran cold —
Prolong'd endurance tames the bold;
And I was then not what I seem,
But headlong as a wintry stream,
And wore my feelings out before
I well could count their causes o'er.
And what with fury, fear, and wrath,
The tortures which beset my path,
Cold, hunger, sorrow, shame, distress,
Thus bound in nature's nakedness
(Sprung from a race whose rising blood
When stirr'd beyond its calmer mood,
And trodden hard upon, is like
The rattle-snake's in act to strike),
What marvel if this worn-out trunk
Beneath its woes a moment sunk?
The earth gave way, the skies roll'd round,
I seem'd to sink upon the ground;
But err'd, for I was fastly bound.
My heart turn'd sick, my brain grew sore,
And throbb'd awhile, then beat no more:
The skies spun like a mighty wheel;
I saw the trees like drunkards reel,
And a slight flash sprang o'er my eyes,
Which saw no farther: he who dies
Can die no more than then I died.
O'ertortured by that ghastly ride,
I felt the blackness come and go,
And strove to wake; but could not make
My senses climb up from below.

I felt as on a plank at sea,
When all the waves that dash o'er thee,
At the same time upheave and whelm,
And hurl thee towards a desert realm.
My undulating life was as

The fancied lights that flitting pass
Our shut eyes in deep midnight, when
Fever begins upon the brain;

540

550

But soon it pass'd, with little pain,
But a confusion worse than such:
I own that I should deem it much,
Dying, to feel the same again;
And yet I do suppose we must
Feel far more ere we turn to dust.
No matter; I have bared my brow
Full in Death's face-before- and now.

XIV

'My thoughts came back; where was I? Cold,

571

And numb, and giddy: pulse by pulse Life reassumed its lingering hold, And throb by throb: till grown a pang Which for a moment would convulse, My blood reflow'd though thick and chill; My ear with uncouth noises rang,

580

My heart began once more to thrill; My sight return'd, though dim, alas! And thicken'd, as it were, with glass. Methought the dash of waves was nigh: There was a gleam too of the sky, Studded with stars; - it is no dream; The wild horse swims the wilder stream! The bright broad river's gushing tide Sweeps, winding onward, far and wide, And we are half-way, struggling o'er To yon unknown and silent shore. The waters broke my hollow trance, And with a temporary strength

My stiffen'd limbs were rebaptized.
My courser's broad breast proudly braves
And dashes off the ascending waves,
And onward we advance!
We reach the slippery shore at length,

A haven I but little prized,
For all behind was dark and drear,
And all before was night and fear.
How many hours of night or day
In those suspended pangs I lay,
I could not tell; I scarcely knew
If this were human breath I drew.

XV

591

600

560

And here and there a speck of white,

610

And not an insect's shrill small horn,
Nor matin bird's new voice was borne
From herb nor thicket. Many a werst,
Panting as if his heart would burst,
The weary brute still stagger'd on;
And still we were — or seem'd alone.
At length, while reeling on our way,
Methought I heard a courser neigh
From out yon tuft of blackening firs.
Is it the wind those branches stirs ?
No, no! from out the forest prance
A trampling troop; I see them come!
In one vast squadron they advance!
I strove to cry ·
- my lips were dumb.
The steeds rush on in plunging pride;
But where are they the reins to guide?
A thousand horse- and none to ride!
With flowing tail, and flying mane,
Wide nostrils never stretch'd by pain,
Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein,
And feet that iron never shod,
And flanks unscarr'd by spur or rod,
A thousand horse, the wild, the free,
Like waves that follow o'er the sea,

-

Came thickly thundering on,

As if our faint approach to meet.
The sight re-nerved my courser's feet,
A moment staggering, feebly fleet,
A moment, with a faint low neigh,
He answer'd, and then fell;
With gasps and glazing eyes he lay,
And reeking limbs immoveable -

670

680

690

699

His first and last career is done! On came the troop- they saw him stoop, They saw me strangely bound along His back with many a bloody thong. They stop they start they snuff the air, Gallop a moment here and there, Approach, retire, wheel round and round, Then plunging back with sudden bound, Headed by one black mighty steed Who seem'd the patriarch of his breed, Without a single speck or hair

Of white upon his shaggy hide.

They snort- they foam-neigh- swerve

I little deem'd another day
Would see my houseless, helpless head.

720

And there from morn till twilight bound, I felt the heavy hours toil round, With just enough of life to see My last of suns go down on me, In hopeless certainty of mind, That makes us feel at length resign'd To that which our foreboding years Presents the worst and last of fears Inevitable- even a boon,

Nor more unkind for coming soon;

Yet shunn'd and dreaded with such care, As if it only were a snare

That prudence might escape: At times both wish'd for and implored, At times sought with self-pointed sword, Yet still a dark and hideous close To even intolerable woes,

And welcome in no shape.

And, strange to say, the sons of pleasure,
They who have revell'd beyond measure
In beauty, wassail, wine, and treasure,
Die calm, or calmer oft than he
Whose heritage was misery:

For he who hath in turn run through
All that was beautiful and new,

730

740

Hath nought to hope, and nought to leave; And, save the future (which is view'd Not quite as men are base or good, But as their nerves may be endued), With nought perhaps to grieve:

750

The wretch still hopes his woes must end,
And Death, whom he should deem his friend,
Appears, to his distemper'd eyes,
Arrived to rob him of his prize,
The tree of his new Paradise.
To-morrow would have given him all,
Repaid his pangs, repair'd his fall;
To-morrow would have been the first
Of days no more deplored or curst,
But bright, and long, and beckoning years,
Seen dazzling through the mist of tears,
Guerdon of many a painful hour;
To-morrow would have given him power
To rule, to shine, to smite, to save
And must it dawn upon his grave?

XVIII

761

The sun was sinking still I lay Chain'd to the chill and stiffening steed; I thought to mingle there our clay; And my dim eyes of death had need, No hope arose of being freed.

I cast my last looks up the sky,

770

And there between me and the sun I saw the expecting raven fly, Who scarce would wait till both should die Ere his repast begun.

He flew, and perch'd, then flew once more,
And each time nearer than before;

I saw his wing through twilight flit,
And once so near me he alit

I could have smote, but lack'd the
strength;

But the slight motion of my hand,
And feeble scratching of the sand,
The exerted throat's faint struggling noise,
Which scarcely could be call'd a voice, 781
Together scared him off at length. -
I know no more my latest dream
Is something of a lovely star
Which fix'd my dull eyes from afar,
And went and came with wandering beam,
And of the cold, dull, swimming, dense
Sensation of recurring sense,

And then subsiding back to death,
And then again a little breath,
A little thrill, a short suspense,

An icy sickness curdling o'er

790

My heart, and sparks that cross'd my brain

A gasp, a throb, a start of pain,

A sigh, and nothing more.

XIX

'I woke Where was I?- Do I see
A human face look down on me?
And doth a roof above me close?
Do these limbs on a couch repose?
Is this a chamber where I lie?
And is it mortal, yon bright eye
That watches me with gentle glance?

I closed my own again once more,
As doubtful that the former trance

Could not as yet be o'er. A slender girl, long-hair'd, and tall, Sate watching by the cottage wall: The sparkle of her eye I caught, Even with my first return of thought; For ever and anon she threw

A prying, pitying glance on me
With her black eyes so wild and free.
I gazed, and gazed, until I knew
No vision it could be;

But that I lived, and was released
From adding to the vulture's feast.
And when the Cossack maid beheld
My heavy eyes at length unseal'd,

800

810