Broadside ballad entitled 'Arab's Farewell to his Horse'

Transcription

Arab's Farewell to his Horse.

PRICE ONE PENNY.

Copies of this popular production can always be had in
the Poet's box

My beautiful! my beautiful! that standest meekly by,
With thy proudly 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 art sold, my Arab
steed.
Fret not with that impatient hoof, snuff not the breezy wind,
The further that thou fliest now, so far am I behind.
The stranger hath thy bridle rein-thy master hath his gold-
Fleet limbed and beautiful, farewell, thou'rt sold, my steed,
thou'rt sold.
Farewell, these free untired limbs full many a mile must
roam,
To reach the chill and wintry sky which clouds the stran-
ger's home.
Some other hand, less fond, must now thy corn and bed
prepare-
The silky mane I braided once must be another's care.
The morning sun shall dawn again, but never more with thee
Shall I gallop through 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 step, shall bear me home
again.
Yes, thou must go, the wild free breeze, the brilliant sun
and sky,
Thy master's home, from all of these my exiled one must fly.
Thy proud dark eye will grow less proud, thy step become
less fleet,
And vainly shalt thou arch thy neck thy master's hand to
meet.
Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye glancing bright;
Only in sleep shall hear again that step so firm and light;
And when I raise my dreaming arm to check and cheer thy
speed,
Then must I startling wake to feel thou'rt sold, my Arab
steed.
Ah! rudely then, unseen by me, some cruel hand may chide,
Till foam-wreathes lie, like crested waves, along thy panting
side,
And the rich blood that is in thee swells in thy indignant
pain,
Till careless eyes, which rest on thee, may count each started
vein.
Will they ill-use thee? If I thought-but no it cannot be-
Thou art so swift yet easy curbed, so gentle yet so free.
And yet, if haply when thou'rt gone, my lonely heart should
yearn,
Can the hand which casts thee from it now command thee
to return?
Return, alas! my Arab steed, what shall thy master do,
When thou who wert his all of joy hath vanished from his
view;
When the dim distance cheats mine eye, and, through the
gathering tears,
Thy bright form for a moment like the false mirage appears,
Slow and unmounted will I roam, with weary foot alone,
Where with fleet step and joyous bound thou oft has borne
me on.
And sitting down by that green well I'll pause and sadly
think,
It was here he bowed his glossy neck when last I saw him
drink.
When last I saw thee drink?   Away! the fevered 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 power is strong,
They tempted me, my beautiful! but I have loved too long.
Who said that I'd giv'n thee up, who said that thou wert
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.

Songs sent to any part of the country on receipt of
postage stamps for the number required along with an
extra stamp to ensure a free return per post. Immediate
despatch may be relied upon,

Saturday morning, June 5, 1869.

previous