 | Safie |  |
Yes! now they speed from tumult's scene,
Where struggled madly serf with serf;
And now the trees and bushes screen,—
Yet still is seen the scatter'd turf,
Spurn'd by the dashing hoof on high;
And oft, through brake, the searching eye
May catch a glimpse of those that fly:—
An arm quick waving o'er the head,—
A palampore , a turban red,—
The fleet black courser's glossy tail,
Tossing and lashing on the gale:—
At times a shout of rage or fear
Steals faintly on the list'ning ear,
Utter'd to urge the courser on:—
And now beyond all bushes pacing,
A moving form the eye is tracing;—
Yes!—yet a moment it is seen,
Gliding o'er vale—up mountain green;
Seen—but a moment seen:—now gone!
Where struggled madly serf with serf;
And now the trees and bushes screen,—
Yet still is seen the scatter'd turf,
Spurn'd by the dashing hoof on high;
And oft, through brake, the searching eye
May catch a glimpse of those that fly:—
An arm quick waving o'er the head,—
A palampore , a turban red,—
The fleet black courser's glossy tail,
Tossing and lashing on the gale:—
18
Steals faintly on the list'ning ear,
Utter'd to urge the courser on:—
And now beyond all bushes pacing,
A moving form the eye is tracing;—
Yes!—yet a moment it is seen,
Gliding o'er vale—up mountain green;
Seen—but a moment seen:—now gone!
| Safie | |