Page:Felicia Hemans in the New Monthly Magazine Volume 8 1823.pdf/3



Thy rest was deep at the slumberer's hour, If thou didst not hear the blast Of the savage horn, from the Mountain-tower,* When the Wild Night-Huntsman past, And the roar of the stormy chase went by, Through the dark unquiet sky!

The deer sprang up from their mossy beds, When they caught the piercing sounds, And the oak-boughs crash'd to their antler'd heads, As they flew from the viewless hounds; And the falcon soar'd from her craggy height, Away through the rushing night!

From the chieftain's hand the wine-cup fell, At the castle's festive board, And a sudden pause came o'er the swell Of the harp's triumphal chord. And the Minnesinger's† joyous lay In the hall died fast away.

The convent's chaunted rite was stay'd,    And the hermit dropp'd his beads, And the forest rang through its deepest shade, With the neigh of the phantom steeds; And the church-bells peal'd to the rocking blast, As the Wild Night-Huntsman past!

The storm hath swept with the chase away, There is stillness in the sky; But the mother looks on her son to-day, With a troubled heart and eye, And the maiden's brow hath a shade of care, 'Midst the gleam of her golden hair!

The Rhine flows bright, but its waves ere long Must hear a voice of war, And a clash of spears our hills among, And a trumpet from afar; And the brave on a bloody turf must lie, For the Huntsman hath gone by!‡ F. H.