Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1823.pdf/19

18 Literary Gazette, 15th February 1823, Page 107

II. SONG OF THE HUNTER'S BRIDE. Another day—another day, And yet he comes not nigh; I look amid the dim blue hills, Yet nothing meets mine eye.

I hear the rush of mountain-streams Upon the echoes borne; I hear the singing of the birds, But not my hunter's horn.

The eagle sails in darkness past, The watchful chamois bounds; But what I look for comes not near,— My hawk and hounds.

Three times I thus have watched the snow Grow crimson with the stain The setting sun threw o'er the rock, And I have watched in vain.

I love to see the graceful bow Across his shoulder slung,— I love to see the golden horn Beside his baldric hung.

I love his dark hounds, and I love His falcon's sweeping flight; I love to see his manly cheek With mountain-colours bright.

I've waited patiently, but now Would that the chase were o'er; Well may he love the hunter's toil, But he should love me more.

Why stays he thus?—he would be here If his love equalled mine; Methinks had I one fond caged dove I would not let it pine.

But, hark! what are those ringing steps That up the valley come? I see his hounds,—I see himself,— My, welcome home!