31.12.2010, 12:17
THE WHITE HORSE OF WESTBURY.
As from the Dorset shore I travell'd home,
I saw the charger of the Wiltshire wold ;
A far-seen figure, stately to behold,
Whose groom the shepherd is, the hoe his comb ;
His wizard-spell even sober daylight own'd ;
That night I dream'd him into living will ;
He neigh'd—and, straight, the chalk pour'd down the hill ;
He shook himself, and all beneath was stoned ;
Hengist and Horsa shouted o'er my sleep,
Like fierce Achilles ; while that storm-blanch'd horse
Sprang to the van of all the Saxon force,
And push'd the Britons to the Western deep ;
Then, dream-wise, as it were a thing of course,
He floated upwards, and regain'd the steep.
As from the Dorset shore I travell'd home,
I saw the charger of the Wiltshire wold ;
A far-seen figure, stately to behold,
Whose groom the shepherd is, the hoe his comb ;
His wizard-spell even sober daylight own'd ;
That night I dream'd him into living will ;
He neigh'd—and, straight, the chalk pour'd down the hill ;
He shook himself, and all beneath was stoned ;
Hengist and Horsa shouted o'er my sleep,
Like fierce Achilles ; while that storm-blanch'd horse
Sprang to the van of all the Saxon force,
And push'd the Britons to the Western deep ;
Then, dream-wise, as it were a thing of course,
He floated upwards, and regain'd the steep.