My eyes were closed in utter dread of such a fearful race, But yet by certain signs I knew we went no earthly pace, For turn whichever way we might, the wind with equal force

Rush'd like a torrid hurricane still adverse to our courseOne moment close at hand I heard the roaring Syrian Sea, The next it only murmur'd like the humming of a bee! And when I dared at last to glance across the wild immense, Oh ne'er shall I forget the whirl that met the dizzy sense! What seem'd a little sprig of fern, ere lips could reckon twain,

A palm of forty cubits high, we passed it on the plain! What tongue could tell,-what pencil paint,-what pen describe the ride?

Now off-now on-now up-now down,-and flung from side to side!

I tried to speak, but had no voice, to soothe her with its

tone

My scanty breath was jolted out with many a sudden

groan

My joints were racked-my back was strained, so firmly

I had clung

My nostrils gush'd, and thrice my teeth had bitten through

my tongue

When lo!-farewell all hope of life!—she turn'd and faced the rocks,

None but a flying horse could clear those monstrous granite

blocks!

So thought I, but I little knew the desert pride and fire, Deriv'd from a most deer-like dam, and lion-hearted sire; Little I guess'd the energy of muscle, blood, and bone, Bound after bound, with eager springs, she clear'd each massive stone;

Nine mortal leaps were pass'd before a huge grey rock at

length

Stood planted there as if to dare her utmost pitch of strength

My time was come! that granite heap my monument of death!

She paused, she snorted loud and long, and drew a fuller

breath;

Nine strides and then a louder beat that warn'd me of

her spring,

I felt her rising in the air like eagle on the wing—

But oh the crash!-the hideous shock !—the million

sparks around!

Her hindmost hoofs had struck the crest of that prodigious

mound!

Wild shriek'd the headlong Desert-Born-or else 'twas

demons' mirth,

One second more, and Man and Mare roll'd breathless on

the earth!

*

How long it was I cannot tell ere I revived to sense,
And then but to endure the pangs of agony intense;
For over me lay powerless, and still as any stone,
The Corse that erst had so much fire, strength, spirit, of

its own.

My heart was still-my pulses stopp'd-midway 'twixt life and death,

With pain unspeakable I fetch'd the fragment of a breath, Not vital air enough to frame one short and feeble sigh, Yet even that I loath'd because it would not let me die. Oh! slowly, slowly, slowly on, from starry night till morn, Time flapp'd along, with leaden wings, across that waste forlorn!

I cursed the hour that brought me first within this world

of strife

A sore and heavy sin it is to scorn the gift of life—

But who hath felt a horse's weight oppress his labouring breast?

Why any who has had, like me, the NIGHT MARE on his chest.

LOVE LANE.

IF I should love a maiden more,
And woo her ev'ry hope to crown,
I'd love her all the country o'er,

But not declare it out of town.

One even, by a mossy bank,

That held a hornet's nest within,

A bashful fear my soul unnerv'd,
And gave my heart a backward tug;
Nor was I cheer'd when she observ'd,
Whilst I was silent,-" What a slug!"