"Onward we went--but slack and slow; 625 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; 630 But useless all to me. His new-born tameness nought avail'd-- My limbs were bound; my force had fail'd, Perchance, had they been free. With feeble effort still I tried 635 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 prolong'd their pain. 640 The dizzy race seem'd 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 645 Would never dapple into day; How heavily it roll'd away-- Before the eastern flame Rose crimson, and deposed the stars, And call'd the radiance from their cars, 650 And filled the earth, from his deep throne, With lonely lustre, all his own. XVII "Up rose the sun; the mists were curl'd Back from the solitary world Which lay around--behind--before; 655 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; 660 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 werst,[142] Panting as if his heart would burst, 665 The weary brute still stagger'd on; And still we were--or seem'd--alone. At length, while reeling on our way, Methought I heard a courser neigh From out yon tuft of blackening firs. 670 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. 675 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, 680 Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein, And feet that iron never shod, And flanks unscarr'd by spur or rod, A thousand horse, the wild, the free, Like waves that follow o'er the sea, 685 Came thickly thundering on, As if our faint approach to meet. The sight re-nerved my courser's feet, A moment staggering, feebly fleet,