ARAB’S FAREWELL TO HIS FAVORITE STEED, THE
My Beautiful, my beautiful, that standest meekly by, With thy proud arch’d and glossy neck,
And dark and fiery eye; Fret not to roam the desert now
With all thy winged speed, I may not mount on thee again,
Thou’rt sold, my Arab steed.
Fret not with that impatient hoof, Snuff not the breezy wind,
The farther that thou fliest now, So far am I behind.
The stranger hath thy bridle rein, Thy master hath his gold,
Fleet limb’d and beautiful, fare thee well!
Thou’rt sold, my steed, thou’rt sold.
The morning sun shall dawn again, But never more with thee,
Shall I gallop thro’ the desert paths, Where we were wont to be.
Evening shall darken on the earth, And o’er the sandy plain,
Some other steed, with slower steps, Shall bear me home again.
When the dim distance cheats mine eye, And thro’ the gath’ring tears
Thy bright form for a moment like the false mirage appears,
And sitting down by that green well, I’ll pause and sadly think,
‘Twas here he bow’d his glossy neck, When last I saw him drink.
When last I saw him drink, Away! The fever’d dream is o’er.
I could not live a day and know That we should meet no more.
They tempted me, my beautiful! For hunger’s pow’r is strong,
They tempted me, my beautiful! But I have lov’d too long.
Who said that I had giv’n thee up! Who said that thou wast sold!
‘Tis false, ’tis false, my Arab steed, I fling them back their gold!
Thus, thus I leap upon thy back, And scour the distant plains,
Away, who overtakes us now Shall claim thee for his pains.