Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/181

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125
POEMS OF EMILY BRONTË

XXV

SONG

What rider up Gobeloin's glen
Has spurred his straining steed,
And fast and far from living men
Has passed with maddening speed?


I saw his hoof-prints mark the rock,
When swift he left the plain;
I heard deep down the echoing shock
Re-echo back again.


From cliff to cliff, thro' rock and heath,
That coal-black courser bounds;
Nor heeds the river pent beneath,
Nor marks how fierce it sounds.


With streaming hair, and forehead bare
And mantle waving wide
His master rides; the eagle there
Soars up on every side;


The goats fly by with timid cry,
Their realm rashly won;
They pause—he still ascends on high—
They gaze, but he is gone.