The beams of God's own hallow'd day Loud, long, and deep the bell had toll'd: But still the Wildgrave onward rides; Who was each Stranger, left and right, The right-hand Horseman young and fair, He waved his huntsman's cap on high, To match the princely chase, afford?" "Cease thy loud bugle's clanging knell," Cried the fair youth, with silver voice; "And for devotion's choral swell Exchange the rude unhallow'd noise. "To-day the ill-omen'd chase forbear, "Away, and sweep the glades along!' The Wildgrave spurr'd his ardent steed, And, launching forward with a bound, "Who for thy drowsy priestlike rede, Would leave the jovial horn and hound? "Hence, if our manly sport offend ! With pious fools go chant and pray :Well hast thou spoke, my dark-browed friend Halloo, halloo! and hark away!" The Wildgrave spurr'd his courser light, Each stranger Horseman followed still. Up springs, from yonder tangled thorn, "Hark forward, forward! holla, ho!" A heedless wretch has cross'd the way; 66 Still, Forward, forward!' on they go. See, where yon simple fences meet, A field with Autumn's blessings crown'd; See, prostrate at the Wildgrave's feet, A husbandman with toil embrown'd: "O mercy, mercy, noble lord! Spare the poor's pittance," was his cry, "Earned by the sweat these brows have pour'd, In scorching hour of fierce July." Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads, " Away thou hound! so basely born, So said, so done :-A single bound And man and horse, and hound and horn, Fell Famine marks the maddening throng. Again uproused, the timorous prey Scours moss and moor, and holt and hill; Too dangerous solitude appear'd; His harmless head he hopes to shroud. O'er moss and moor, and holt and hill, Full lowly did the herdsman fall ;- Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads, "Unmanner'd dog! To stop my sport, Vain were thy cant and beggar whine, Again he winds his bugle-horn, "Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!"And through the herd in ruthless scorn, He cheers his furious hounds to go. In heaps the throttled victims fall; Down sinks their mangled herdsman near: The murderous cries the stag appal,Again he starts, new-nerved by fear. With blood besmear'd, and white with foam, He seeks, amid the forest's gloom, But man and horse, and horn and hound, With, "Hark away! and holla, ho!” All mild, amid the rout profane, The holy hermit pour'd his prayer ; "The meanest brute has rights to plead, 66 Still the Fair Horseman anxious pleads; But frantic keeps the forward way. 'Holy or not, or right or wrong, Thy altar, and its rites, I spurn; Not sainted martyrs' sacred song, Nor God himself, shall make me turn! !" He spurs his horse, he winds his horn, And horse and man, and horn and hound, |