他瘦削的左手握着松散的缰绳;缰绳一断，马弯下腰去，在沙地上吃草，在马鞍子上，右手放着一根冒着烟的黑石楠，当他从跑道上凝视时，它的细环忽起忽落。太阳已经倾斜了，仍然高高地挂在苍白炎热的天空中，下午是猛烈的，在它的耀眼下，广阔的平原像天堂一样空旷，寂静，被巨大的绝望击中，泰坦的脸被困住了，对他来说，没有希望，也没有牵挂。那大片的灌木是灰白色的，土壤是黄褐色的，人类的努力和辛劳消失在那无边无际的土地里，几只散落在矮树丛里的羊几乎看不见自己;一个人在荒野中孤独;旁边，一个原始的场景。他在马鞍上笔直挺拔，像列队的士兵，但他的坐位也很优雅，因为大自然造就了这个骑手;他从小就是一个无畏的骑手，现在他像个半人马，当他从马鞍上跳下来的时候，他的一半力量都消失了。他的毛毡从汗湿的头发后面露出来，漫不经心地放着，手帕放在喉咙上，下垂的衬衫围在又瘦又结实的腰上;与强壮的腰部相称的是，皮带上的鼹鼠皮很紧，从前额到马镫都很朴素，阳刚的气势一览无遗。 Yet scarce more than a boy, but the long blaze not more sure Has left on the countenance spare a hue that shall ever endure, Than the life of the plains has set reliance and courage there, Constancy, manliness frank in a young face debonair. He should be no less who rides for ever each spacious bound, Better than human speech he knows the desert around. He journeys from dawn to dusk, and always he rides alone, The hue of the wilderness takes, as his mind its monotone. He hears the infrequent cries, shrieking or hoarse and slow, Sheep bleating, the minah?s scream, the monologue of the crow; He rides in a manless land, and in leagues of the salt-bush plain, Seeks day after day for change, and seeks it ever in vain. In his hands his life each morn as he swings to his leathern seat, Woe to him if he falls where as water the plain sucks heat, Alone in a vast still tomb, cruel and loth to spare, Death waits for each sense and slays whilst the doomed wretch feels despair.