The antler'd monarch of the waste

Sprung from his heathery couch in haste.

But, ere his fleet career he took,

The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; Like crested leader proud and high, Toss'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky;

A moment gazed adown the dale,

A moment snuff'd the tainted gale,

A moment listen'd to the cry,

That thicken'd as the chase drew nigh;

Then, as the headmost foes appear'd,

With one brave bound the copse he clear'd,

And, stretching forward free and far,

Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var.

III.

Yell'd on the view the opening pack,

Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back;

To many a mingled sound at once

The awaken'd mountain gave response.

An hundred dogs bay'd deep and strong,
Clatter'd an hundred steeds along,

Their peal the merry horns rung out,
An hundred voices join'd the shout;
With hark and whoop and wild halloo,
No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew.
Far from the tumult fled the roe,
Close in her covert cower'd the doe,
The falcon, from her cairn on high,
Cast on the rout a wondering eye,
Till far beyond her piercing ken
The hurricane had swept the glen.
Faint, and more faint, its failing din
Return'd from cavern, cliff, and linn,
And silence settled, wide and still,

On the lone wood and mighty hill.

IV.

L'ess loud the sounds of sylvan war

Disturb'd the heights of Uam-Var,

And roused the cavern, where 'tis told

A giant made his den of old;

For ere that steep ascent was won,

High in his path-way hung the sun,

And

many a gallant, stay'd per-force, Was fain to breathe his faultering horse; And of the trackers of the deer

Scarce half the lessening pack was near;

So shrewdly, on the mountain-side,

Had the bold burst their mettle tried.

V...

The noble Stag was pausing now,

Upon the mountain's southern brow,
Where broad extended, far beneath,
The varied realms of fair Menteith.
With anxious eye he wander'd o'er
Mountain and meadow, moss and moor,

And ponder'd refuge from his toil,
By far Lochard or Aberfoyle.

But nearer was the copse-wood gray,
That waved and wept on Loch-Achray,

And mingled with the pine-trees blue
On the bold cliffs of Ben-venue.

Fresh vigour with the hope return'd,
With flying foot the heath he spurn'd,
Held westward with unwearied race,

And left behind the panting chase.

VI.

"Twere long to tell what steeds gave

o'er,

As swept the hunt through Cambus-more ;

What reins were tighten'd in despair,

When rose Benledi's ridge in air;
Who flagg'd upon Bochastle's heath,

Who shunn'd to stem the flooded Teith,-
For twice, that day, from shore to shore,
The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er.

Few were the stragglers, following far,
That reach'd the lake of Vennachar;

And when the Brigg of Turk was won,

The headmost Horseman rode alone.

VII.

A one, but with unbated zea,

That horseman plied the scourge and steel;
For, jaded now, and spent with toil,

Emboss'd with foam, and dark with soil,
While every gasp with sobs he drew,
The labouring Stag strain'd full in view.
Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed,
Unmatch'd for courage, breath, and speed,
Fast on his flying traces came,

And all but won that desperate game;

For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch,

Vindictive toil'd the blood-hound staunch;

Nor nearer might the dogs attain,

Nor farther might the quarry strain.

Thus up the margin of the lake,

Between the precipice and brake,

O'er stock and rock their race they take.