XIII.

"The wood was passed; 'twas more than noon, But chill the air, although in June; Or it might be my veins ran cold-- Prolonged endurance tames the bold; And I was then not what I seem, But headlong as a wintry stream, And wore my feelings out before I well could count their causes o'er: And what with fury, fear, and wrath, The tortures which beset my path-- 530 Cold--hunger--sorrow--shame--distress-- Thus bound in Nature's nakedness; Sprung from a race whose rising blood When stirred beyond its calmer mood, And trodden hard upon, is like The rattle-snake's, in act to strike-- What marvel if this worn-out trunk Beneath its woes a moment sunk?[264] The earth gave way, the skies rolled round, I seemed to sink upon the ground; 540 But erred--for I was fastly bound. My heart turned sick, my brain grew sore, And throbbed awhile, then beat no more: The skies spun like a mighty wheel; I saw the trees like drunkards reel, And a slight flash sprang o'er my eyes, Which saw no farther. He who dies Can die no more than then I died, O'ertortured by that ghastly ride.[265] I felt the blackness come and go, 550 And strove to wake; but could not make My senses climb up from below: I felt as on a plank at sea, When all the waves that dash o'er thee, At the same time upheave and whelm, And hurl thee towards a desert realm. My undulating life was as The fancied lights that flitting pass Our shut eyes in deep midnight, when Fever begins upon the brain; 560 But soon it passed, with little pain, But a confusion worse than such: I own that I should deem it much, Dying, to feel the same again; And yet I do suppose we must Feel far more ere we turn to dust! No matter! I have bared my brow Full in Death's face--before--and now.