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Upon his back, with many a thong;
Then loosed him with a sudden lash,
Away!-away!-and on we dash!
Torrents less rapid and less rash.

"Away!-away!-My breath was gone-
I saw not where he hurried on;
'Twas scarcely yet the break of day,
And on he foamed-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 wrenched my head,
And snapped the cord which to the mane
Had bound my neck in lieu of rein,
And, writhing half my form about,
Howled back my curse; but midst the tread,
The thunder of my courser's speed,
Perchance they did not hear nor heed:

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"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 slackened 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 swollen 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 fiercer far than flame.

"We neared the wildwood-'twas so wide,
I saw no bounds on either side;
'Twas studded with old and 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 strewn by those autumnal eves
That nip the forest's foliage dead,
Discolored with a lifeless red,
Which stands thereon, like stiffened 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:
'Twas 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,-

The boughs gave way, and did not tear My limbs; and I found strength to bear My wounds, already scarred with coldMy bonds forbade to loose my hold.

We rustled through the leaves like wind,
Left shrubs and trees and wolves behind;
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 followed on,
Nor left us with the morning sun;
Behind I saw them, scarce a rood,

At daybreak winding through the wood,
And through the night had heard their feet
Their stealing, rustling step repeat.

O, how I wished for spear or sword,
At least to die amidst the horde,
And perish-if it must be so-
At bay, destroying many a foe!
When first my courser's race begun,

I wished the goal already won;
But now I doubted strength and speed.
Vain doubt! his swift and savage breed

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"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,
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 toward 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;
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;
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.

"My thoughts came back: where was I? Cold And numb and giddy; pulse by pulse

Life re assumed 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!
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 wiid steed's sinewy nerves shall strain
Up the repelling bank.

We gain the top; a boundless plain
Spread through the shadow of the night,
And onward, onward, onward, seems,
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 naught 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 rose
To make him merry with my woes:

The very cheat had cheered me then!
Although detected, welcome, still.
Reminding me, through every ill,
Of the abodes of men.

"Onward we went,-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
To guide him forward in that hour;

But useless all to me.

His newborn tameness naught availed,—
My limbs were bound; my force had failed,
Perchance had they been free,

With feeble efforts still I tried
To rend the bonds so starkly tied,

But still it was in vain!

My limbs were only wrung the more,
And soon the idle strife gave o'er,

Which but prolonged their pain;
The dizzy race seemed almost done,
Although no goal was nearly won;

Some streaks announced the coming sun,-
How slow, alas! he came!
Methought that mist of dawning gray
Would never dapple into day;
How heavily it rolled away,—

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 luster, all his own.

"Up rose 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;

And not an insect's shrill small horn,
Nor matin bird's new voice, was borne
From herb nor thicket. Many a verst,
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. 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 stretched by pain, Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein,

And feet that iron never shod,
And flanks unscarred 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 renerved my courser's feet.
A moment staggering, feebly fleet,
A moment, with a faint low neigh,
He answered, and then fell:
With gasps and glazing eyes he lay,
And reeking limbs immovable,

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 seemed the patriarch of his breed,
Without a single speck or hair

Of white upon his shaggy hide;

They snort, they foam, neigh, swerve aside, And backward to the forest fly,

By instinct, from a human eye.

They left me there to my despair,
Linked to the dead and stiffening wretch,
Whose lifeless limbs beneath me stretch,
Relieved from that unwonted weight,

From whence I could not extricate
Nor him nor me, and there we lay

The dying on the dead!

I little deemed another day

Would see my houseless, helpless head.

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He flew, and perched, 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 lacked 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 called a voice,

Together scared him off at length.
I know no more--my latest dream
Is something of a lovely star

Which fixed 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 trill, a short suspense,

An icy sickness curdling o'er

My heart, and sparks, that crossed my brain,A gasp, a throb, a start of pain,

A sigh, and nothing more.

"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-haired 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 maiden beheld
My heavy eyes at length unsealed,
She smiled, and I essayed to speak,

But failed,—and she approached, and made
With lip and finger signs that said

I must not strive as yet to break
The silence, till my strength should be
Enough to leave my accents free;

And then her hand on mine she laid,
And smoothed the pillow for my head,
And stole along on tiptoe tread,

And gently oped the door, and spake
In whispers,—ne'er was voice so sweet!
Even music followed her light feet;

But those she called were not awake, And she went forth; but, ere she passed, Another look on me she cast,

Another sign she made, to say,
That I had naught to fear, that all
Were near, at my command or call,
And she would not delay

Her due return: while she was gone,
Methought I felt too much alone.

"She came with mother and with sire,—
What need of more?-I will not tire

With long recital of the rest,

Since I became the Cossack's guest.
They found me senseless on the plain,—
They bore me to the nearest hut,-
They brought me into life again.—
Me, one day o'er their realm to reign!
Thus the vain fool who strove to glut
His rage, refining on my pain,

Sent me forth to the wilderness,
Bound, naked, bleeding, and alone,
To pass the desert to a throne,-
What mortal his own doom may guess?"
-Lord Byron.

The Relief of Lucknow.

THAT last day in Lucknow fort!

We knew it was the last;

That the enemy's lines crept surely on, And the end was coming fast.

To yield to that foe meant worse than death;
And the men and we all worked on;

It was one day more of smoke and roar,
And then it would all be done.

There was one of us, a corporal's wife,

A fair young, gentle thing,

Wasted with fever in the siege,

And her mind was wandering.

She lay on the ground in her Scottish plaid,

And I took her head on my knee;

"When my father comes hame frae the pleugh," she said,

"Oh! then please wauken me.”

She slept like a child on her father's floor,

In the flecking of woodbine-shade, When the house-dog sprawls by the open door, And the mother's wheel is stayed.

It was smoke and roar and powder-stenched, And hopelessly waiting for death;

And the soldier's wife, like a full-tired child, Seemed scarce to draw her breath.

I sank to sleep; and I had my dream
Of an English village lane,

And wall and garden; but one wild scream
Brought me back to the roar again.
There Jessie Brown stood listening

Till a sudden gladness broke

All over her face; and she caught my hand And drew me near as she spoke:

"The Hielanders! O, dinna ye hear The slogan far awa?

The McGregors'-O, I ken it weel; It's the grandest o' them a'!

"God bless the bonny Hielanders!

We're saved! we're saved!" she cried; And fell on her knees; and thanks to God Flowed forth like a full-flood tide.

Along the battery-line her cry Had fallen among the men,

And they started back;-they were there to die;
But was life so near them, then?
They listened for life; the rattling fire

Far off, and the far-off roar,

Were all; and the colonel shook his head,
And they turned to their guns once more.

But Jessie said, "The slogan's done;
But winna ye hear it noo?

The Campbells are comin'! It's no a dream
Our succors hae broken through!"

We heard the roar and the battle afar,
But the pipes we could not hear;
So the men plied their work of hopeless war
And knew that the end was near.

It was not long ere it made its way-
A thrilling, ceaseless sound:
It was no noise from the strife afar,
Or the sappers under ground;

It was the pipes of the Highlanders,

And now they played Auld Lang Syne,
It came to our men like the voice of God,
And they shouted along the line.

And they wept, and shook one another's hands,
And the women sobbed in a crowd;
And every one knelt down where he stood,
And we all thanked God aloud.

That happy time, when we welcomed them, Our men put Jessie first;

And the general gave her his hand, and cheers Like a storm from the soldiers burst.

And the pipers' ribbons and tartans streamed,
Marching round and round our line;
And our joyful cheers were broken with tears,
As the pipes played Auld Lang Syne.
-James Russell Lowell.

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