See where yon simple fences meet, A field with autumn's blessing crown'd; 'O mercy, mercy, noble lord! Spare the poor's pittance,' was his cry, ‘Earn'd 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, While, joying o'er the wasted corn, Fell Famine marks the maddening throng. Again uproused, the timorous prey Scours moss and moor, and holt and hill; Hard run, he feels his strength decay, And trusts for life his simple skill. 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; These flocks, an orphan's fleecy care!' Earnest the right-hand stranger pleads, 'Unmanner'd dog! To stop my sport Vain were thy cant and beggar whine, Though human spirits of thy sort Were tenants of these carrion kine !' 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, The humble hermit's hallow'd bower. But man, and horse, and horn, and hound, The sacred chapel rung around With 'Hark away! and holla, ho!' All mild amid the rout profane, The holy hermit pour'd his prayer; 'Forbear with blood God's house to stain; Revere His altar, and forbear! 'The meanest brute has rights to plead, Still the Fair Horseman anxious pleads; But frantic keeps the forward way. 'Holy or not, or right or wrong, Thy altar and its rights I spurn ; Not sainted martyrs' sainted song, Not God Himself shall make me turn!' He spurs his horse, he winds his horn, And horse, and man, and horn, and hound, Wild gazed the affrighted Earl around; He listens for his trusty hounds; Still dark and darker frown the shades, High o'er the sinner's humbled head At length the solemn silence broke ; Oppressor of creation fair! Apostate spirits' harden'd tool! Scorner of God, scourge of the poor! The measure of thy cup is full. 'Be chas'd forever through the wood: Forever roam the affrighted wild; And let thy fate instruct the proud, God's meanest creature is His child.' Twas hush'd: one flash of sombre glare With yellow tinged the forest's brown ; Up rose the Wildgrave's bristling hair, And horror chill'd each nerve and bone. Cold pour'd the sweat in freezing rill; Brought storm and tempest on its wing. Earth heard the call; her entrails rend; From yawning rifts, with many a yell, Mix'd with sulphureous flames, ascend The misbegotten dogs of hell. What ghastly huntsman next arose, The Wildgrave flies o'er bush and thorn, CII TO DAFFODILS Fair daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; |