Чарльз Теннисон Тернер (Charles Tennyson Turner)

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 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.

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