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.

IX.

"Bring forth the horse !-the horse was brought; In truth, he was a noble steed,

A Tartar of the Ukraine breed,

Who look'd as though the speed of thought
Were in his limbs; but he was wild,

Wild as the wild deer, and untaught,
With spur and bridle undefiled-

Twas but a day he had been caught;
And snorting, with erected mane,
And struggling fiercely, but in vain,
In the full foam of wrath and dread
To me the desert-born was led :

They bound me on, that menial throng,
Upon his back with many a thong;
They loosed him with a sudden lash-
Away!-away!-and on we dash!—
Torrents less rapid and less rash.

X.

Away-away!-My breath was gone-
I saw not where he hurried on:
'Twas 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 tread,
The thunder of my courser's speed,
Perchance they did not hear nor heed:
It vexes me for I would fain

Have paid their insult back again.
I paid it well in after days:

There is not of that castle gate,

Its drawbridge and portcullis' weight,

Stone, bar, moat, bridge, or barrier left;

Nor of its fields a blade of grass,

Save what grows on a ridge of wall, Where stood the hearth-stone of the hall; And many a time ye there might pass, Nor dream that e'er that fortress was: I saw its turrets in a blaze,

Their crackling battlements all cleft,

And the hot lead pour down like rain From off the scorch'd and blackening roof, Whose thickness was not vengeance-proof. 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 frank-
For 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.

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;
At times I almost thought, indeed,
He must have slacken'd in his speed;
But no-my bound and slender frame
Was nothing to his angry might,
And merely like a spur became :
Each motion which I made to free
My swoin limbs from their agony
Increased his fury and affright:

I tried my voice,-'twas faint and low,
But yet he swerved as from a blow;
And, starting to each accent, sprang
As from a sudden trumpet's clang:
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.