THE STAG at eve had drunk his fill, | |
| Where danced the moon on Monan’s rill, | |
| And deep his midnight lair had made | |
| In lone Glenartney’s hazel shade; | |
| But, when the sun his beacon red | 5 |
| Had kindled on Benvoirlich’s head, | |
| The deep-mouthed bloodhound’s heavy bay | |
| Resounded up the rocky way, | |
| And faint, from farther distance borne, | |
| Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. | 10 |
| |
| As Chief who hears his warder call, | |
| “To arms! the foemen storm the wall,” | |
| The antlered monarch of the waste | |
| Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. | |
| But, ere his fleet career he took, | 15 |
| The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; | |
| Like crested leader proud and high | |
| Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky; | |
| A moment gazed adown the dale, | |
| A moment snuffed the tainted gale, | 20 |
| A moment listened to the cry, | |
| That thickened as the chase drew nigh; | |
| Then, as the headmost foes appeared, | |
| With one brave bound the copse he cleared, | |
| And, stretching forward free and far, | 25 |
| Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. | |
| |
| Yelled on the view the opening pack; | |
| Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back; | |
| To many a mingled sound at once | |
| The awakened mountain gave response. | 30 |
| A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong, | |
| Clattered a hundred steeds along, | |
| Their peal the merry horns rung out, | |
| A hundred voices joined the shout; | |
| With hark and whoop and wild halloo, | 35 |
| No rest Benvoirlich’s echoes knew. | |
| Far from the tumult fled the roe; | |
| Close in her covert cowered the doe; | |
| The falcon, from her cairn on high, | |
| Cast on the rout a wondering eye, | 40 |
| Till far beyond her piercing ken | |
| The hurricane had swept the glen. | |
| Faint, and more faint, its failing din | |
| Returned from cavern, cliff, and linn, | |
| And silence settled, wide and still, | 45 |
| On the lone wood and mighty hill. * * * * * | |
| ’T were long to tell what steeds gave o’er, | |
| As swept the hunt through Cambus-more; | |
| What reins were tightened in despair, | |
| When rose Benledi’s ridge in air; | 50 |
| Who flagged upon Bochastle’s heath, | |
| Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith,— | |
| For twice that day, from shore to shore, | |
| The gallant stag swam stoutly o’er. | |
| Few were the stragglers, following far, | 55 |
| That reached the lake of Vennachar; | |
| And when the Brigg of Turk was won, | |
| The headmost horseman rode alone. | |
| Alone, but with unbated zeal, | |
| That horseman plied the scourge and steel; | 60 |
| For, jaded now, and spent with toil, | |
| Embossed with foam, and dark with soil, | |
| While every gasp with sobs he drew, | |
| The laboring stag strained full in view. | |
| Two dogs of black Saint Hubert’s breed, | 65 |
| Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed, | |
| Fast on his flying traces came, | |
| And all but won that desperate game; | |
| For, scarce a spear’s length from his haunch, | |
| Vindictive toiled the bloodhounds staunch; | 70 |
| Nor nearer might the dogs attain, | |
| Nor farther might the quarry strain. | |
| Thus up the margin of the lake, | |
| Between the precipice and brake, | |
| O’er stock and rock their race they take. | 75 |
| |
| The hunter marked that mountain high, | |
| The lone lake’s western boundary, | |
| And deemed the stag must turn to bay, | |
| Where that huge rampart barred the way; | |
| Already glorying in the prize, | 80 |
| Measured his antlers with his eyes; | |
| For the death-wound and death-halloo | |
| Mustered his breath, his whinyard drew; | |
| But thundering as he came prepared, | |
| With ready arm and weapon bared, | 85 |
| The wily quarry shunned the shock, | |
| And turned him from the opposing rock; | |
| Then, dashing down a darksome glen, | |
| Soon lost to hound and hunter’s ken, | |
| In the deep Trosachs’ wildest nook | 90 |
| His solitary refuge took. | |
| There while, close couched, the thicket shed | |
| Cold dews and wild-flowers on his head, | |
| He heard the baffled dogs in vain | |
| Rave through the hollow pass amain, | 95 |
| Chiding the rocks that yelled again. | |
| |
| Close on the hounds the hunter came, | |
| To cheer them on the vanished game; | |
| But, stumbling in the rugged dell, | |
| The gallant horse exhausted fell. | 100 |
| The impatient rider strove in vain | |
| To rouse him with the spur and rein, | |
| For the good steed, his labors o’er, | |
| Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more; | |
| Then, touched with pity and remorse, | 105 |
| He sorrowed o’er the expiring horse: | |
| “I little thought, when first thy rein | |
| I slacked upon the banks of Seine, | |
| That Highland eagle e’er should feed | |
| On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed! | 110 |
| Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day, | |
| That costs thy life, my gallant gray!” | |
| |
| Then through the dell his horn resounds, | |
| From vain pursuit to call the hounds. | |
| Back limped, with slow and crippled pace, | 115 |
| The sulky leaders of the chase; | |
| Close to their master’s side they pressed, | |
| With drooping tail and humbled crest; | |
| But still the dingle’s hollow throat | |
| Prolonged the swelling bugle-note. | 120 |
| The owlets started from their dream, | |
| The eagles answered with their scream, | |
| Round and around the sounds were cast, | |
| Till echo seemed an answering blast; | |
| And on the hunter hied his way, | 125 |
| To join some comrades of the day; | |
| Yet often paused, so strange the road, | |
| So wondrous were the scenes it showed. | |
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