"For lovers there are many eyes, And such there were on us;--the devil On such occasions should be civil-- 320 The devil!--I'm loth to do him wrong, It might be some untoward saint, Who would not be at rest too long But to his pious bile gave vent-- But one fair night, some lurking spies 325 Surprised and seized us both. The Count was something more than wroth-- I was unarm'd; but if in steel, All cap-à-pie[137] from head to heel, What 'gainst their numbers could I do?-- 330 'Twas near his castle, far away From city or from succour near, And almost on the break of day; I did not think to see another, My moments seem'd reduced to few; 335 And with one prayer to Mary Mother, And, it may be, a saint or two, As I resign'd me to my fate, They led me to the castle gate: Theresa's doom I never knew, 340 Our lot was henceforth separate-- An angry man, ye may opine, Was he, the proud Count Palatine; And he had reason good to be, But he was most enraged lest such 345 An accident should chance to touch Upon his future pedigree; Nor less amazed, that such a blot His noble 'scutcheon[138] should have got, While he was highest of his line; 350 Because unto himself he seem'd The first of men, nor less he deem'd In others' eyes, and most in mine. 'Sdeath! with a _page_--perchance a king Had reconciled him to the thing; 355 But with a stripling of a page-- I felt--but cannot paint his rage. IX "'Bring forth the horse!'--the horse was brought; In truth, he was a noble steed, A Tartar of the Ukraine breed, 360 Who look'd as though the speed of thought Were in his limbs; but he was wild, Wild as the wild deer, and untaught, With spur and bridle undefined-- 'Twas but a day he had been caught; 365 And snorting, with erected mane, And struggling fiercely, but in vain, In the full foam of wrath and dread To me the desert-born was led. They bound me on, that menial throng, 370 Upon his back with many a thong; They loosed him with a sudden lash-- Away!--away!--and on we dash!-- Torrents less rapid and less rash. X