The Fire-Steed

WHERE rise the tones of yon mingled crowd

The Fire-Steed stands impatient and proud;-

The hot breath rolls from his nostrils wide,

As deeply he drinks of the gurgling tide;

Before the flight of the wind he has come,

Afar from the town and its ceaseless hum;

He has called the strength of the wave and wood,

The tall white pine and the leaping flood,

To make the sinews of iron strong,

Which hurry his snake-like length along,

And send a thrill, quick, sudden, and warm

With conscious life, through his giant form.

He waits the touch of the practised hand

Which guides his flight through the wondering land,

And labors his broad and mighty breast,

With his fiery breathing half suppressed.

Stretch thy nerves of steel, and speed!

Wherefore pause, thou terrible steed?

"Clank, clank, clank!" Up brake, and away!

Time moves on leaden wings while you stay.

From the crystal fount he hath drunk his fill,

With a quicker leap his pulses thrill,-

And his unchained breath rolls free and fast,

As he goes to race with the flying blast.

With a firm, slow tread, he moves along,

Like a giant plying his sinews strong.

Now with a swifter glide he goes,

While his soft white mane on the zephyr flows;

And now his spirit is up in wrath,

And fast he thunders along his path!

"Kizz-kizz," away! away!

Like the lightning's flash or the meteor's play;

Bounding down with a rush and leap,

And hurrying on in his terrible sweep,

Through the hills and over the vales-

"Whiz-a-whiz," over the sounding rails.

Away for your life! from his lightning course!

He is coming right on with a hurricane's force ;

His white mane back on the cleft air flung,

While the warning is spoke from his iron tongue,

"Ting-a-ring-ding-a-ting-ting-a-ring-ding!"

Off from the track while the merry tones ring!

I see the flash of his fiery eye,

As he sweeps with the breath of the whirlwind by,

On and on in his proud career,

Like a crag shot off from a comet's sphere.

His breathing is quick, and his chainless heel

Treads down the strength of the bending steel;

And he pours the smoke of his nostrils back,

As he thunders down on the trembling track.

Right on hath the panting charger sped,

And nought but the jar of his rapid tread,

And the distant tone of his startling neigh,

Can tell where the Fire steed passed away.