appeal! 
“Fear nothing,” said the smiling Fate, “when human help is vain,
Spirits shall by thy stirrups fly, and fairies guide the rein;
Just glance at yonder animal, her perfect shape remark,
And in thy breast at once shall glow the oriental spark! 
As for thy spouse and tender babes, no Arab roams the wild
But for a mare of such descent, would barter wife and child.”

“Nay then,” cried I—­(heav’n shrive the lie!) “to tell the secret truth,
’Twas my unhappy fortune once to over-ride a youth! 
A playful child,—­so full of life!—­a little fair-haired boy,
His sister’s pet, his father’s hope, his mother’s darling joy! 
Ah me! the frantic shriek she gave!  I hear it ringing now! 
That hour, upon the bloody spot, I made a holy vow;
A solemn compact, deeply sworn, to witness my remorse,
That never more these limbs of mine should mount on living horse!”
Good Heav’n! to see the angry glance that flashed upon me now! 
A chill ran all my marrow through—­the drops were on my brow! 
I knew my doom, and stole a glance at that accursed Mare,
And there she stood, with nostrils wide, that snuff’d the sultry air. 
How lion-like she lash’d her flanks with her abundant tail;
While on her neck the stormy mane kept tossing to the gale! 
How fearfully she roll’d her eyes between the earth and sky,
As if in wild uncertainty to gallop or to fly! 
While with her hoof she scoop’d the sand as if before she gave
My plunge into eternity she meant to dig my grave!

And I, that ne’er could calmly hear a horse’s ears at play—­
Or hear without a yard of jump his shrill and sudden neigh—­
Whose foot within a stable-door had never stood an inch—­
Whose hand to pat a living steed would feel an awful flinch,—­
I that had never thrown a leg across a pony small,
To scour the pathless desert on the tallest of the tall! 
For oh! it is no fable, but at ev’ry look I cast,
Her restless legs seem’d twice as long as when I saw them last! 
In agony I shook,—­and yet, although congealed by fears,
My blood was boiling fast, to judge from noises in my ears;
I gasp’d as if in vacuo, and thrilling with despair,
Some secret Demon seem’d to pass his fingers through my hair.

I could not stir—­I could not speak—­I could not even see—­
A sudden mist rose up between that awful Mare and me,
I tried to pray, but found no words—­tho’ ready ripe to weep,
No tear would flow,—­o’er ev’ry sense a swoon began to creep,—­
When lo! to bring my horrid fate at once unto the brunt,
Two Arabs seized me from behind, two others in the front,
And ere a muscle could be strung to try the strife forlorn,
I found myself, Mazeppa-like, upon the Desert-Born!

Terrific was the neigh she gave, the moment that my weight
Was felt upon my back, as if exulting in her freight;
Whilst dolefully I heard a voice that set each nerve ajar,—­
“Off with the bridle—­quick!—­and leave his guidance to his star!”