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When last I saw thee drink? - Away! the fevered dream is o'er !

I could not live a day, and know that we should meet no

more;

They tempted me, my beautiful! for hunger's power is strong

They tempted me, my beautiful! but I have loved too long.

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

'Tis false! 'tis false ! my Arab steed! I fling them back their gold!

Thus

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thus, I leap upon thy back, and scour the distant plains!

Away! who overtakes us now shall claim thee for his

pains.

- Caroline Elizabeth Norton.

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O

THE LEAP OF ROUSHAN BEG

N, Kyrat, on!" whispered Roushan Beg to his steed. "Once on the farther slope of this mountain ridge, and we shall be where no foe can follow us."

He patted Kyrat gently on the neck, and the horse leaped swiftly forward, up the steep pathway where hitherto only the feet of mountain goats had climbed.

Only yesterday Roushan Beg was the terror of the desert, the bandit leader of half a thousand fearless men. Now, beaten in fight, wounded, alone, he was fleeing for his life-fleeing through the wild hill country, while the hue and cry of his enemies resounded behind him.

But who shall overtake Kyrat as he speeds up, up the rugged hillside, never faltering, never pausing? No other horse in all Persia is so swift as he, and none so daring or so wise. And Roushan the Robber loves him more than aught else the world can hold. "On, Kyrat, on!"

Soon the path became narrower and more difficult. It was little more than a narrow passageway between two great walls of rock that towered high above it on either side. The horse hesitated; he whinnied softly as though warning his master.

“Oh, Kyrat, are you afraid?" said Roushan, bending forward and speaking in his ear. "You surely will not fail me now. On, on, my jewel!" And the steed obeyed.

Suddenly the wall on the right-hand side ended, giving place to a dizzy precipice and a yawning chasm, deep and frightful. Roushan Beg heard the roaring of an unseen torrent far, far below, and again the fierce shouts of his pursuers echoed behind him. He spoke assuringly to his steed, and faithful Kyrat pressed forward along the pathway, which was now only a narrow ledge on the side of the cliff. Surefooted, indeed, must be the steed that can make its way along a road so perilous.

"Be very brave, my dear Kyrat!" and again the robber leaned forward and kissed his neck. "Surely

we shall find safety in front of us."

But, as he spoke, a shout of triumph came up out

of the gorge below him; and glancing over the edge of the precipice he saw his worst foe, Reyhan the Arab, with his hundred men, watching him from the safe ground at the entrance to the chasm. And now he observed that, not a hundred yards ahead, the ledge that had served him as a pathway came abruptly to an end. Before him yawned the chasm, full thirty feet in width, and beyond it, a little lower than his uncertain pathway, was the smooth summit of the opposite hill and a sure road to safety.

He paused for a moment while the shouts of his enemies came with redoubled fierceness to his ears. "O my Kyrat!" he murmured, "we have loved each other long and well. Do not fail me now. The task is great, but there is no other way. Leap this chasm, and save the life of Roushan Beg."

Softly, very softly, the steed whinnied his reply. He held his head proudly and pointed his ears forward with expectancy.

"Go, Kyrat, go!" commanded his master.

The steed, with his four white feet, spurned the ground beneath him; fleetly as an arrow he skimmed along the short remaining pathway, measuring with his eyes the space before him. Then, on the verge of the fearful chasm, he drew himself up for one mighty effort, and leaped as horse had never leaped before. Like a huge bird he rose in the air, then glided swiftly forward and landed safely with his burden on the farther side.

And Roushan Beg was saved. For a moment only, his red cap, like a meteor, was seen flashing through the air; there was a vision of a drawn sword shaken in defiance; and as horse and rider disappeared among the rocks and stunted trees of the farther slope, Roushan Beg's enemies realized that their prey had escaped them.

"Allahu!" cried the Arab, Reyhan. "In all Persia there is not a braver man than Roushan Beg, nor a nobler horse than Kyrat, the fleet-footed."

- Retold from old Persian Legends.

"B."

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