“The wood was past; ’twas more than noon,
       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.

“My thoughts came back; where was I? 
Cold,
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,
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
Sleeps, 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. 
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.

          “With glossy skin and dripping mane,
          And reeling limbs, and reeking flank,
       The wild steed’s sinewy nerves still strain
          Up the repelling bank. 
       We gain the top:  a boundless plain
       Spreads through the shadow of the night,
          And