set. I marked it well, a very princely steed.'

_'BEHOLD, BEHOLD, A RAM IS CAUGHT IN THE THICKET BY HIS HORNS._'

'Our God hath not forgotten us! Quick, maidens, bring forth the goodly
steed. What! do you tremble? I'll be his groom.'

'Nay! Miriam, beware, beware. It is an untamed beast, wild as the
whirlwind. Let me deal with him.'

He ran after her, dashed into the thicket, and brought forth the horse.

Short time I ween that stately steed had parted from his desert home;
his haughty crest, his eye of fire, the glory of his snorting nostril,
betoken well his conscious pride, and pure nobility of race. His colour
was like the sable night shining with a thousand stars, and he pawed the
ground with his delicate hoof, like an eagle flapping its wing.

Alroy vaulted on his back, and reined him with a master's hand.

'Hah!' he exclaimed, 'I feel more like a hero than a fugitive. Farewell,
my sister; farewell, ye gentle maidens; fare ye well, and cherish
my precious Miriam. One embrace, sweet sister,' and he bent down and
whispered, 'Tell the good Bostenay not to spare his gold, for I have a
deep persuasion that, ere a year shall roll its heavy course, I shall
return and make our masters here pay for this hurried ride and bitter
parting. Now for the desert!'

CHAPTER II.

_The Slaying of an Ishmaelite_

SPEED, fleetly speed, thou courser bold, and track the desert's
trackless way. Beneath thee is the boundless earth, above thee is the
boundless heaven, an iron soil and brazen sky. Speed, swiftly speed,
thou courser bold, and track the desert's trackless way. Ah! dost thou
deem these salty plains[6] lead to thy Yemen's happy groves, and
dost thou scent on the hot breeze the spicy breath of Araby? A sweet
delusion, noble steed, for this briny wilderness leads not to the happy
groves of Yemen, and the breath thou scentest on the coming breeze is
not the spicy breath of Araby.

The day has died, the stars have risen, with all the splendour of a
desert sky, and now the Night descending brings solace on her dewy wings
to the fainting form and pallid cheek of the youthful Hebrew Prince.

Still the courser onward rushes, still his mighty heart supports him.
Season and space, the glowing soil, the burning ray, yield to the
tempest of his frame, the thunder of his nerves, and lightning of his
veins.

Food or water they have none. No genial fount, no graceful tree, rise
with their pleasant company. Never a bea