The speaker remembers lying in the light of the beloved’s looks, panting for them like a thirsty hind at noon for brooks. Then the beloved’s horse—whose hooves outrun the tempest—carries them far away. The speaker’s weak feet grow weary, but their heart refuses to be left behind; it becomes a silent companion on the journey. The poem’s title, claiming to be an imitation from Arabic, colours these lines with desert longing: the hind, the cool brooks, the storm-swift horse. The poem then insists that the heart itself is fleeter than any storm, steed, or deadly swiftness. Tender thought clothes it like a dove wearing wings of care, and it will cling steadfastly in battle, darkness, and need, asking for no smile in return for whatever comfort it brings. The mood is intimate, aching, and selfless—a love that feels delicate yet relentless, as if the speaker’s whole being has slipped its physical limits to follow silently, needing nothing back.
From the Arabic: An Imitation — Summary
My faint spirit was sitting in the light Of thy looks, my love; It panted for thee like the hind at noon For the brooks, my love. Thy barb whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flight Bore thee far from me; My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon, Did companion thee.
Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed Or the death they bear, The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove With the wings of care; In the battle, in the darkness, in the need, Shall mine cling to thee, Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love, It may bring to thee.