They have given the iron horse the rein,
And he flies away o'er the sunny plain,
Shrieking and clanking the bolts and bars
That fetter his strength to the rumbling cars,
Away through the valley and mountain pass,
O'er the dark ravine and the dank morass,
Panting and puffing his clarion peals,
Shaking the earth with his iron heels,
And flashing the sparks from his fiery eyes,
Like a hunted fiend, he shrieks and flies!
On, on, through the tunnel so dark and drear,
On, over the bridges that quake with fear,
By the stagnant fens and the limpid rills,
Through the clefted hearts of the ancient hills,
Where the startled echoes faint and die
In their vain attempts to repeat his cry.
Now faster away, as if terrible need
Were adding a spur to his fearful speed.
Hushed is the voice of the rushing river;
The winds are low, but the old trees shiver;
The sun, like a drunkard, reels around;
The wild beasts start from the haunted ground,
And the bending sky seems rent apart
With the dreadful throbs of his mighty heart!
Hurrah! he is mocking the wandering wind,
And leaving the laggard far, far behind;
City, and hamlet, and river, and plain,
Like pictures of chaos, confuse the brain,
As they loom in sight and vanish away,
Like dissolving views in a giant's play.
And thus the horse with the iron heart,
Bearing his burden from mart to mart,
Panting and puffing his clarion peals,
Shaking the earth with his clanging heels,
Flashing the sparks from his fiery eyes,
Like a hunted demon, shrieks and flies.