By Richard Garnett, C.B., LL.D.
55
Whence cometh he? What realms of gloom or light
Behind him lie? Through what weird terrors last
Thus clothed in stormy grandeur sped so fast,
Dishevelling his mane with wild affright?
A youth with mien of martial prowess, blent
With majesty no shock disquieteth,
Vested in steely armour sheening clear,
Fearless bestrides the terrible portent.
"I," the tremendous steed declares, "am Death!"
"And I am Love!" responds the cavalier.
The Yellow Book — Vol. XIII.
d
