"The wood was past; 'twas more than noon, But chill the air, although in June; Or it might be my veins ran cold-- Prolong'd endurance tames the bold; And I was then not what I seem, But headlong as a wintry stream, And wore my feelings out before I well could count their causes o'er: And what with fury, fear, and wrath, The tortures which beset my path, Cold, hunger, sorrow, shame, distress. Thus bound in nature's nakedness; Sprung from a race whose rising blood, When stirr'd beyond its calmer mood, And trodden hard upon, is like The rattle-snake's, in act to strike, What marvel if this worn-out trunk Beneath its woes a moment sunk? The earth gave way, the skies roll'd round. I seem'd to sink upon the ground; But err'd, for I was fastly bound. My heart turn'd sick, my brain grew sore. And throbb'd 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. "My thoughts came back; where was I? Cold, And numb, and giddy: pulse by pulse Life reassumed its lingering hold, And throb by throb,--till grown a pang Which for a moment would convulse, My blood reflow'd, though thick and chill; My ear with uncouth noises rang, My heart began once more to thrill; My sight return'd, though dim; alas! And thicken'd, 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 Sleeps, 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 stiffen'd limbs were rebaptized. My courser's broad breast proudly braves, And dashes off the ascending waves. 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.