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XXVII.

XXXVII. Awake, awake, arise, my love!

And, hurry! hurry! off they role, How, Helen, dost thou fare?

As fast as fast might be; Wak’st thou, or sleep'st ? laugh’st thou, or weep'st? Spurn'd from the courser's thundering heels Hast thought on me, my fair ?"

The flashing pebbles flee.

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And hoofs, thick beating on the hollow hill.
The Tuild Huntsman.

Sudden the grazing heifer in the vale

Starts at the noise, and both the herdsman's ears This is a translation, or rather an imitation, of the Tingle with inward dread Aghast, he eyes Wilde Jäger of the German poet Bürger. The tradi

The mountain's height, and all the ridges round,

Yet not one trace of living wight discerns, tion upon which it is founded bears, that formerly a

Nor knows, o'erawed, and trembling as he stands, Wildgrave, or keeper of a royal forest, named Faulk.

To what, or whom, he owes his idle fear, enburg, was so much addicted to the pleasures of the To ghost, to witch, to fairy, or to fiend; chase, and otherwise so extremely profligate and cruel, But wonders, and no end of wondering finds." that he not only followed this unballowed amusement

Albania-reprinted in Scottish Descriptwe Poems, on the Sabbath, and other days consecrated to reli

up. 167, 168. gious duty, but accompanied it with the most unheard

A posthumous miracle of Father Lesley, a Scottish of oppression upon the poor peasants, who were under capuchin, related to his being buried on a hill haunted his vassalage. When this second Nimrod died, the by these unearthly cries of hounds and huntsmen. people adopted a superstition, founded probably on After his sainted relics had been deposited there, the the many

various uncouth sounds heard in the depth noise was never heard more. The reader will find of a German forest, during the silence of the night. this, and other miracles, recorded in the life of Father They conceived they still heard the cry of the Wild- Bonaventura, which is written in the choicest Italian grave's hounds; and the well-known cheer of the deceased hunter, the sounds of his horses' feet, and the rustling of the branches before the game, the pack, and the sportsmen, are also distinctly discriminated ;

THE WILD HUNTSMAN. but the phantoms are rarely, if ever, visible. Once, as

[1796.'] a benighted Chasseur heard this infernal chase pass by him, at the sound of the halloo, with which the Spectre The Wildgrave winds his bugle-born, Huntsman cheered his hounds, he could not refrain To horse, to horse! halloo, halloo! from crying, “ Gluck zu Falkenburgh![Good sport His fiery courser snuffs the morn, to ye, Falkenburgh!) “ Dost thou wish me good And thronging serfs their lord pursue. sport ?” answered a hoarse voice; “ thou shalt share the game;" and there was thrown at him what seemed The eager pack, from couples freed, to be a huge piece of foul carrion. The daring Chas- Dash through the bush, the brier, the brake; seur lost two of his best horses soon after, and never While answering hound, and horn, and steed, perfectly recovered the personal effects of this ghostly The mountain echoes startling wake. greeting. This tale, though told with some variations, is universally believed all over Germany.

The beams of God's own hallow'd day The French had a similar tradition concerning an Had painted yonder spire with gold, aërial hunter, who infested the forest of Fountainbleau. And, calling sinful man to pray, He was sometimes visible; when he appeared as a Loud, long, and deep the bell had tollid: huntsman, surrounded with dogs, a tall grisly figure. Some account of him may be found in “ Sully's Me- But still the Wildgrave onward rides; moirs," who says he was called Le Grand Veneur. At Halloo, halloo! and, hark again! one time he chose to hunt so near the palace, that the When, spurring from opposing sides, attendants, and, if I mistake not, Sully himself, came Two Stranger Horsemen join the train. out into the court, supposing it was the sound of the king returning from the chase. This phantom is else- Who was each Stranger, left and right, where called Saint Hubert.

Well may I guess, but dare not tell; The superstition seems to have been very general, The right-hand steed was silver white, as appears from the following fine poetical description The left, the swarthy hue of hell. of this phantom chase, as it was heard in the wilds of Ross-shire.

The right-hand Horseman, young and fair,

His smile was like the morn of May; "Ere since of old, the haughty thanes of Ross

The left, from eye of tawny glare,
So to the simple swain tradition tells,--
Were wont with clans, and ready vassals throng'd,

Shot midnight lightning's lurid ray.
To wake the bounding stag, or guilty wolf,
There oft is heard, at midnight, or at noon,

He waved his huntsman's cap on high,
Beginning faint, but rising still more loud,

Cried, “ Welcome, welcome, noble lord'
And nearer, voice of hunters, and of hounds,

What sport can earth, or sea, or sky,
And horns, hoarse winded, blowing far and keen :-
Forth with the hubbub multiplies; the gale

To match the princely chase, afford?”—
Labours with wilder shrieks, and rifer din
Of hot pursuit; the broken cry of deer

| Published (1796) with Wilham and Helen, and entitled Mangled by throttling dogs; the shouts of men,

" THE CHACE."

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