IV

Away! My rapping footfalls drown And of the

All but the sobbing of the wind Manner of

Within my ears and loud behind the Running.

The thunder of the Centaur's hooves

Where, like a hailstorm, down he moves.

Past me the spun pines rock and hiss,

Behind my feet stones pelted whizz,

Hills rise before me, backward flow,

The bare downs, bright'ning, mount below....

On. On. Down. Down. But, ah, no more!

My breath comes keener than the frore

Indraught of age-long mountain frost;

My head turns dizzy, feet are lost.

Yet scamper feet! A rock — a mound:

Rap! Rap! I soar it at a bound.

On. On. Down. Down. A sudden brook,

And now — in mid-air — lo! there look

Laughingly up at me the eyes

Of Hyads, and their fading cries

Ring in my ears. Can they have seen

The Centaur hurtle by between

Them and the clouds? The downs up-fly.

Now earth's bowl rocks and reels the sky

And through my chilly flaming tears

The molten sun swoops, bursts, and veers....

Still rap my hoofs, though but the sound

Tells me they yet rocket the ground.

The uproar loudens more behind.

My crook'd legs cross, my eyes go blind.

I claw the sky: for, O! I can

Scarce lurch. I feel the sudden fan

Of the great Centaur's galey breath

Upon my nape, and like chill death

His hand descends. But, ah! he laughs

Even as Bacchus when he quaffs

In jest or taunt a double bowl.

I, choking, reel, and, tripping, roll The Faun

Wildly aside. See! as I fall falls.

A rampant shape majestical

Storms vehement by, and, storming, swings

Hand across rushing lyre, which rings

To strains, like rolling breakers tossed

High o'er an adamantine coast,

In praise of elemental Mirth,

Strength, Beauty and the Golden Earth!