And why does he now set his teeth
And draw his dagger from its sheath?
He breasts his charger at the leap--
He pricketh him full sharp and deep:
He leaps, and then with heaving flank
Gains footing on the other bank:
A moment--'mid the pass's gloom,
Vanish both veil and dancing plume--
It seems a dream. No! there is proof,
The clatter of a flying hoof,
And too, the lady's steed remains,
With empty seat, and flying reins;
And then is borne to that wild rout,
A long and proud triumphant shout.
And he who led the pirate band,
Urg'd on his horse, with spur and hand;
The long locks drifted from his brow,
Like midnight waves from storm-vexed prow;
And darkly flashed his eyes of jet
Beneath the brows which almost met.
Stern was his face; but war and crime,
--For he had sinn'd in many a clime--
Had plough'd it deeper far than time.
He was their chief: will he draw rein?
Will he the yawning rift refrain?
And with his halting band remain?
He rais'd up in his stirrups, high,
Better the chasm to descry,
And measure with his hawk-like eye,
While his dark steed begrim'd with toil,