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These herds, a widow's little all;
Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads,
-"Unmannered dog! To stop my sport
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 besmeared, and white with foam,
The humble hermit's hallowed bower.h
But man, and horse, and horn, and hound,
With, "Hark away; and, holla, ho!"
All mild, amid the rout profane,
The holy hermit poured his prayer ;"Forbear with blood God's house to stain; Revere his altar, and forbear!
"The meanest brute has rights to plead, Which, wronged by cruelty, or pride, Draw vengeance on the ruthless head:
Be warned at length, and turn aside."
g First edition :
"Nor prayer nor pity Walter heeds." h First edition: "hut obscure."
Still the Fair Horseman anxious pleads;
"Holy or not, or right or wrong,
Thy altar, and its rites, I spurn; Not sainted martyrs' sacred 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;
Could from his anxious lips be borne.
He listens for his trusty hounds;
Still dark and darker frown the shades,i
Save what a distant torrent gave.
High o'er the sinner's humbled head
The awful voice of thunder spoke:
Oppressor of creation fair!
i First edition: "round it spreads."
"Be chased for ever through the wood, For ever roam the affrighted wild; And let thy fate instruct the proud, God's meanest creature is his child.”—
"Twas hushed: One flash, of sombre glare, With yellow tinged the forests brown; Up rose the Wildgrave's bristling hair, And horror chilled each nerve and bone.
Cold poured the sweat in freezing rill;
Brought storm and tempest on its wing.
Earth heard the call;-Her entrails rend;j From yawning rifts, with many a yell, Mixed with sulphureous flames, ascend The misbegotten dogs of hell.
What ghastly Huntsman next arose,
The Wildgrave flies o'er bush and thorn, With many a shriek of helpless woe; Behind him hound, and horse, and horn, And," Hark away, and holla, ho!”
With wild despair's reverted eye,
Close, close behind, he marks the throng, With bloody fangs, and eager cry;— In frantic fear he scours along.
Still, still shall last the dreadful chase,k
j First edition :
"The earth is rocked, it quakes, it rends." * First edition :
"Still shall the dreadful chase endure,
By day earth's tortured womb they scour."
This is the horn, the hound, and horse,
The wakeful priest oft drops a tear
For human pride, for human woe,
WILLIAM AND HELEN.
IN the preface to the edition published anonymously in 1796, Sir Walter Scott says:- "The first two lines of the fortyseventh stanza, descriptive of the speed of the lovers, may perhaps bring to the recollection of many a passage extremely similar, in a translation of "Leonora," which first appeared in the "Monthly Magazine." In justice to himself, the translator thinks it his duty to acknowledge that his curiosity was first attracted to this truly romantic story, by a gentleman, who, having heard "Leonora " once read in manuscript, could only recollect the general outlines, and part of a couplet which, from the singularity of its structure and frequent recurrence, had remained impressed upon his memory. If, from despair of rendering the passage so happily, the property of another has been invaded, the translator makes the only atonement now in his power, by restoring it thus publicly to the rightful owner. For the information of those to whom such obsolete expressions may be less familiar, it may be noticed that the word serf, means a vassal; and that to busk and boune, is to dress and prepare one's self for a journey.
FROM heavy dreams fair Helen rose
"Alas, my love, thou tarriest long!
With gallant Frederick's princely power
With Paynim and with Saracen
2 This was done by Mr. William Taylor, of Norwich.
And every knight returned to dry
Our gallant host was homeward bound
And old and young, and sire and son, To meet them crowd the way, With shouts, and mirth, and melody, The debt of love to pay.
Full many a maid her true love met,
Nor joy nor smile for Helen sad;
The martial band is passed and gone;
"O, rise, my child," her mother said,
"O mother, what is gone, is gone,
"O break, my heart, O break at once!
"O enter not in judgment, Lord!" The pious mother prays;
'Impute not guilt to thy frail child! She knows not what she says,