Full long he rode amid the darksome waste,
And mightily the fierce horse bore him on:
So that like clouds, that by the wind are chased,
The dark trees overhead sailed one by one:
But the horse sped, like rage his courage high,
Till a white river in the pathway shone,
Whose chilly stream gave answer to the sky;
The which he crossed, but met again full soon,
And whitherso he turned, the stream was nigh:
Heading his course, it still lay whitely strewn,
Or brimming, murderous dark, from shore to shore,
Or dully silvered, as by clouded moon
But last the enraged waves, his path before,
Ran broadly forth, and cast a bloody glare,
As if their breast an angry meteor bore:
And their rough-watered bulks did heave and flare
In hillocks yellow and red. The war-horse proud
Leaped onward, rushing through the fiery air;
And down the steep bank toward the surface bowed,
While his fierce feet the coltsfoot leaves trod down,
Whose mighty growth served the rough stones to shroud
And Mano saw the waters flash and frown,
And plunge beside the image of a fire,
Which seemed the other element to crown.
Then was the river gone, with sudden ire;
And left behind a maiden standing there,
Whose coming strange in mind he gan admire:
But knowing her to be Diantha fair,
Resolved to not admire, because he found
That he thereof had always been aware:
But held her by the hand: when from the ground
She seemed with shrieks to rise: and in his hand
Only white bones remained, which dropped around,
And with their ruin littered all the land
Herewith he started from his evil sleep,
Holding the dream within his mind's command,
But troubled at the same with trouble deep