Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/751

 With toying oars and silken sails they glide, Nor care for wind and tide.

Mounted on panthers' furs and lions' manes, From rear to van they scour about the plains; A three days' journey in a moment done; And always, at the rising of the sun, About the wilds they hunt with spear and horn, On spleenful unicorn.

I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown Before the vine-wreath crown! I saw parch'd Abyssinia rouse and sing To the silver cymbals' ring! I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce Old Tartary the fierce! The kings of Ind their jewel-sceptres vail, And from their treasures scatter pearlèd hail; Great Brahma from his mystic heaven groans, And all his priesthood moans, Before young Bacchus' eye-wink turning pale. Into these regions came I, following him, Sick-hearted, weary—so I took a whim To stray away into these forests drear, Alone, without a peer: And I have told thee all thou mayest hear.

Young Stranger! I've been a ranger In search of pleasure throughout every clime; Alas! 'tis not for me! Bewitch'd I sure must be, To lose in grieving all my maiden prime.