| |
| OH, it ’s twenty gallant gentlemen | |
| Rode out to hunt the deer, | |
| With mirth upon the silver horn | |
| And gleam upon the spear; | |
| They galloped through the meadow-grass, | 5 |
| They sought the forest’s gloom, | |
| And loudest rang Sir Morven’s laugh, | |
| And lightest tost his plume. | |
| There ’s no delight by day or night | |
| Like hunting in the morn; | 10 |
| So busk ye, gallant gentlemen, | |
| And sound the silver horn! | |
| |
| They rode into the dark greenwood | |
| By ferny dell and glade, | |
| And now and then upon their cloaks | 15 |
| The yellow sunshine played; | |
| They heard the timid forest-birds | |
| Break off amid their glee, | |
| They saw the startled leveret, | |
| But not a stag did see. | 20 |
| Wind, wind the horn, on summer morn! | |
| Though ne’er a buck appear, | |
| There ’s health for horse and gentleman | |
| A-hunting of the deer! | |
| |
| They panted up Ben Lomond’s side | 25 |
| Where thick the leafage grew, | |
| And when they bent the branches back | |
| The sunbeams darted through; | |
| Sir Morven in his saddle turned, | |
| And to his comrades spake, | 30 |
| “Now quiet! we shall find a stag | |
| Beside the Brownies’ Lake. | |
| Then sound not on the bugle-horn, | |
| Bend bush and do not break, | |
| Lest ye should start the timid hart | 35 |
| A-drinking at the lake.” | |
| |
| Now they have reached the Brownies’ Lake,— | |
| A blue eye in the wood,— | |
| And on its brink a moment’s space | |
| All motionless they stood; | 40 |
| When, suddenly, the silence broke | |
| With fifty bowstrings’ twang, | |
| And hurtling through the drowsy air | |
| Full fifty arrows sang. | |
| Ah, better for those gentlemen, | 45 |
| Than horn and slender spear, | |
| Were morion and buckler true, | |
| A-hunting of the deer. | |
| |
| Not one of that brave company | |
| Shall hunt the deer again; | 50 |
| Some fell beside the Brownies’ Pool, | |
| Some dropt in dell or glen; | |
| An arrow pierced Sir Morven’s breast, | |
| His horse plunged in the lake, | |
| And swimming to the farther bank | 55 |
| He left a bloody wake. | |
| Ah, what avails the silver horn, | |
| And what the slender spear? | |
| There ’s other quarry in the wood | |
| Beside the fallow deer! | 60 |
| |
| O’er ridge and hollow sped the horse | |
| Besprent with blood and foam, | |
| Nor slackened pace until at eve | |
| He brought his master home. | |
| How tenderly the Lady Ruth | 65 |
| The cruel dart withdrew! | |
| “False Tirrell shot the bolt,” she said, | |
| “That my Sir Morven slew!” | |
| Deep in the forest lurks the foe, | |
| While gayly shines the morn: | 70 |
| Hang up the broken spear, and blow | |
| A dirge upon the horn. | |
| |
