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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 rolled round,
I seemed to sink upon the ground;

But erred

- for I was fastly bound.

My heart turned sick, my brain grew sore,
And throbbed 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.

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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 ;

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But soon it passed, with little pain,

But a confusion worse than such:
I own that I should deem it much,
Dying, to feel the same again;

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And yet I do suppose we must
Feel far more e'er we turn to dust!

No matter! I have bared my brow
Full in Death's face-before- and now.

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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 reflowed, though thick and chill;

My ear with uncouth noises rang,

My heart began once more to thrill;
My sight returned, though dim; alas!
And thickened, 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 stiffened limbs were rebaptized.
My courser's broad breast proudly braves,
And dashes off the ascending waves,
And onward we advance!

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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.

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"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,

seems,

And onward, onward, onward
Like precipices in our dreams,
To stretch beyond the sight;
And here and there a speck of white,
Or scattered spot of dusky green,
In masses broke into the light,
As rose the moon upon my right:

But nought distinctly seen
In the dim waste would indicate
The omen of a cottage gate;
No twinkling taper from afar
Stood like a hospitable star;
Not even an ignis-fatuus 1 rose
1 Will o' the wisp.

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To make him merry with my woes:

That very cheat had cheered me then! Although detected, welcome still,

Reminding me, through every ill,

Of the abodes of men.

"Onward we went

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but slack and slow;

His savage force at length o'erspent, The drooping courser, faint and low,

All feebly foaming went:

A sickly infant had had power

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To guide him forward in that hour!

But, useless all to me,

His new-born tameness nought availed

My limbs were bound; my force had failed,

Perchance, had they been free.

With feeble effort still I tried

To rend the bonds so starkly tied,

But still it was in vain ;

My limbs were only wrung the more,

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Before the eastern flame

Rose crimson, and deposed the stars,
And called the radiance from their cars,
And filled the earth, from his deep throne,
With lonely lustre, all his own.

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'Uprose the sun; the mists were curled Back from the solitary world

Which lay around — behind

- before.

What booted it to traverse o'er

Plain forest river? Man nor brute,
Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot,

Lay in the wild luxuriant soil

No sign of travel, none of toil

The very air was mute:

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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 staggered on;
And still we were or seemed - 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!

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