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28 “The strong oak, and the hardy pine; “But far apart—and well it were, “Or else a different lot were mine— “The boughs gave way, and did not tear “My limbs; and I found strength to bear “My wounds, already scarr’d with cold— “My bonds forbade to loose my hold. “We rustled through the leaves like wind, “Left shrubs, and trees, and wolves behind; “By night I heard them on the track, “Their troop came hard upon our back, “With their long gallop, which can tire “The hound’s deep hate, and hunter’s fire: “Where’er we flew they follow’d on, “Nor left us with the morning sun; “Behind I saw them, scarce a rood, “At day-break winding through the wood, “And through the night had heard their feet “Their stealing, rustling step repeat. “Oh! how I wish’d for spear or sword, “At least to die amidst the horde,