Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/233

Rh Sitting in his cart

He makes his meal; before him, for long miles,

Alive with bright green lizards,

And the springing bustard-fowl,

The track, a straight black line,

Furrows the rich soil; here and there

Clusters of lonely mounds

Topped with rough-hewn,

Gray, rain-bleared statues, overpeer

The sunny waste.

They see the ferry

On the broad, clay-laden

Lone Chorasmian stream; thereon,

With snort and strain,

Two horses, strongly swimming, tow

The ferry-boat, with woven ropes

To either bow

Firm-harnessed by the mane; a chief,

With shout and shaken spear,

Stands at the prow, and guides them; but astern

The cowering merchants in long robes

Sit pale beside their wealth

Of silk-bales and of balsam-drops,

Of gold and ivory,

Of turquoise-earth, and amethyst,

Jasper and chalcedony,

And milk-barred onyx-stones.

The loaded boat swings groaning

In the yellow eddies;

The gods behold them.

They see the heroes

Sitting in the dark ship