Silent they floated--as if each
Sat breathless, and too awed for speech
In that dark chasm where even sound
Seemed dark,--so sullenly around
The goblin echoes of the cave
Muttered it o'er the long black wave
As 'twere some secret of the grave!
But soft--they pause--the current turns
Beneath them from its onward track;--
Some mighty, unseen barrier spurns
The vexed tide all foaming back,
And scarce the oar's redoubled force
Can stem the eddy's whirling course;
When, hark!--some desperate foot has sprung
Among the rocks--the chain is flung--
The oars are up--the grapple clings,
And the tost bark in moorings swings.
Just then, a day-beam thro' the shade
Broke tremulous--but ere the maid
Can see from whence the brightness steals,
Upon her brow she shuddering feels
A viewless hand that promptly ties
A bandage round her burning eyes;
While the rude litter where she lies,
Uplifted by the warrior throng,
O'er the steep rocks is borne along.
Blest power of sunshine!--genial Day,
What balm, what life is in thy ray!
To feel thee is such real bliss,
That had the world no joy but this
To sit in sunshine calm and sweet.--
It were a world too exquisite
For man to leave it for the gloom,
The deep, cold shadow of the tomb.
Even HINDA, tho' she saw not where
Or whither wound the perilous road,
Yet knew by that awakening air,
Which suddenly around her glowed,
That they had risen from the darkness there,
And breathed the sunny world again!
But soon this balmy freshness fled--
For now the steepy labyrinth led
Thro' damp and gloom--mid crash of boughs,
And fall of loosened crags that rouse
The leopard from his hungry sleep,
Who starting thinks each crag a prey,
And long is heard from steep to steep
Chasing them down their thundering way!
The jackal's cry--the distant moan
Of the hyena, fierce and lone--
And that eternal saddening sound
Of torrents in the glen beneath,
As 'twere the ever-dark Profound
That rolls beneath the Bridge of Death!
All, all is fearful--even to see,
To gaze on those terrific things
She now but blindly hears, would be
Relief to her imaginings;
Since never yet was shape so dread,
But Fancy thus in darkness thrown
And by such sounds of horror fed
Could frame more dreadful of her own.
Pages:
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809