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!