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 springs—he spurs—he speeds—he flies along,

O'er plains, and changing fields, for many a day,

And sometimes he is followed by a throng

Of peasants thro' the dark and doubtful way;

And long they wander—long, ere "Desolation"

Breaks on the inquiring eye of expectation,

And long they track the irriguous path, ere yet

They reach the village for their boundary set.

, early morn, had driven from mortal eyne

All the delusions, all the dreams of sleep:

"O golden mother—golden mother mine—

Strange visions broke upon my slumbers deep

Ere brightening clouds had waked the orient dawning,

Ere night withdrew from heaven its raven awning,

A sad disquiet had disturb'd my breast,

And mingling voices rous'd me from my rest.'

" was just past the hour of middle night—

I thought I was in iron fetters bound—

I cried—I sought relief in my affright,

But sought in vain—for all was darkness round: