“The patient search and vigil long
“Of him who treasures up a wrong.
XI.
“Away, away, my steed and I,
“Upon the pinions of the wind,
“All human dwellings left behind;
“We sped like meteors through the sky,
“When with its crackling sound the night
“Is chequer’d with the northern light:
“Town—village—none were on our track,
“But a wild plain of far extent,430
“And bounded by a forest black;
“And, save the scarce seen battlement
“On distant heights of some strong hold,
“Against the Tartars built of old,
“No trace of man. The year before
“A Turkish army had march’d o’er;
“And where the Spahi’s hoof hath trod,
“The verdure flies the bloody sod:—
“The sky was dull, and dim, and gray,
“And a low breeze crept moaning by—440
“I could have answer’d with a sigh—
