While his brave steed, white as the snow,
Darts like an arrow from the bow;
His hoofs fall fast as tempest rain
Spurning the road that rings again.
Onward the race!--now fainter sounds
The yell and whoop; but still like hounds
The pirate band behind him rush
Breaking the mountains solemn hush.
On speeds he now--his steed so white
Far in advance, proclaims his flight;
God speed him and his bride!
But ah! that chasm's fearful gape
Seems to forbid hope of escape,
He _cannot_ turn aside.

He bends his head; is it in pray'r?
Is it to shed a bitter tear?
Or utter craven vow?
No; 'tis to gaze into those eyes
Which are to him love-litten skies--
To kiss his lady's brow.
And must he on? full well he knew
That none were spar'd by that wild crew--
Never a lady fair.
And now a shout, a fierce halloo,
Told that they were again in view--
Close to his ear a bullet sings,
And then the distant carbine rings.

Why pales the cavalier?