216 SELECT POETRY

Fret not to roam the desert now, with all thy
winged speed,

T may not mount on thee again—thou'rt sold.
my Arab steed !

Fret not with that impatient hoof—snuff not the
breezy wind—

The farther that thou fliest now, so far am |
behind ;

The stranger hath thy bridle-rein—thy master
hath his gold—

Fleet-limbed and beautiful, farewell; thou’rt sold,
my steed, thou’rt sold.

Farewell! those free, untired limbs full many a
mile must roam,

To reach the chill and wintry sky which clouds
the stranger's home ;

Some other hand, less fond, must now thy corn
and bed prepare,

Thy silky mane, I braided once, must be another's
care !

The morning sun shall dawn again, but never
more with thee

Shall I gallop through the desert paths, where
we were wont to be;

Evening shall darken on the earth, and o’er the
sandy plain

Some other steed, with slower step, shall bear me
home again.

Yes, thou must go! the wild, free breeze, the
brilliant sun and sky,

Thy master’s house—from all of these my exiled
one must fly;