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A shriek!—a pause,—then loud acclaim Rose to the skies with name. Oh, worthy of a lady's love! has borne away the glove. He laid the prize at the maiden's feet, Then turn'd from the smile he dared not meet: A moment more he is on the steed, The spur has urged to its utmost speed, As that he could fly from himself, and all The misery of his spirit's thrall.

The horse sank down, and then Started to see the foaming rein, The drops that hung on the courser's hide, And the rowel's red trace on its panting side; And deep shame mingled with remorse, As he brought the cool stream to his fallen horse.