And number'd me among his ruffian host
Of racers. Then unceasingly I fled
Despairing through the murky firmament,
Like a lone wreck athwart a midnight sea,
Chased by the howling spirits of the storm,
And without rest. At last, one day I saw.
In my continual flight, a desert blank
And broad beneath me, where no water was;
And there I mark'd a weary antelope.
Dying for thirst, all stretch'd out on the sand,
"With her poor trembling lips in agony
Press'd to a scorch'd-up spring; then, then, at last
My hard heart broke, and I could weep. At once
My terrible race was stopp'd, and I did melt
Into the desert's heart, and with my tears
T quench'd the thirst of the poor antelope.
So having pour'd myself into the dry
And desolate waste, I sprang up a wild flower
In solitary beauty. There I grew
Alone and feverish, for the hot sun burn'd.
And parch'd my tender leaves, and not a sigh
Came from the winds. I seem'd to breathe an air
Of fire, and had resigned myself to death.
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