The bonds are all broken which fetter'd my mind, And my cares borne away on the wings of the wind. My pride lifts its head, for a season bow'd down, And the queen in my nature now puts on her crown.
Now we're off! like the winds, to the plains whence they came, And the rapture of motion is thrilling my frame. On, on speeds my courser, scarce printing the sod, Scarce crushing a daisy to mark where he trod. On, on, like a deer, when the hounds' early bay Awakes the wild echoes, away and away! Still faster, still farther he leaps at my cheer, 'Till the rush of the startled air whirrs in my ear! Now 'long a clear rivulet lieth my track, See his glancing hoof tossing the white pebbles back; Now a glen dark as midnight —what matter —we'll down, Though shadows are round us, and rocks o'er us frown, — The thick branches shake, as we're hurrying through, And deck us with spangles of silvery dew! What a wild thought of triumph, that this girlish hand Such a steed in the might of his strength may command! What a glorious creature! Ah, glance at him now, As I check him awhile on this green hillock's brow, How he tosses his mane, with a shrill, joyous neigh, And paws the firm earth in his proud, stately play! Hurrah, off again, dashing on, as in ire, Till the long flinty pathway is flashing with fire! Ho, a ditch! —shall we pause? No, the bold leap we dare, Like a swift-winged arrow we rush through the air. Oh! not all the pleasures that poets may praise, Not the 'wildering waltz in the ball-room's blaze, Nor the chivalrous joust, nor the daring race, — Nor the swift regatta, nor merry chase, — Nor the sail high heaving waters o'er, — Nor the rural dance on the moonlight shore, Can the wild and fearless joy exceed, Of a fearless leap on a fiery steed.