131 The Hunter's Song. HE Woodwele in the forest has just begun to sing, The hare is in the mead, and the rooks are on the wing, In the eye of every blossom the night has left a tear, The moon begins to pale, and the stars to disappear; The hunters are meeting, With horse and with hound, And blythe hearts are greeting The baron and the squire, the yeoman and the knight, With many a gentle lady, in cap and kirtle dight, Are riding from the castle, a noble sight to see, And the fresh air is ringing with merriment and glee. Away to the green glen! Away to the wood! Where hunted, with his yeomen, The bold Robin Hood. By meadow and by shaw to the green wood we go, From his bed in the fern-leaves we frighten the roe, His eyes are wild and beautiful, his antlers are wide, And round him for a moment he throws a glance of pride, Then onwards he boundeth In the face of the morn, And merrily soundeth The voice of the horn. From leash and tether loosened, o'er thicket and o'er lea, Away go our dogs, and there follow we; Away goes the venison through forest and through mead, And there follow we with hound and with steed ; Onwards before us Right nobly he bounds, And merry is the chorus, Of horns and of hounds. O'er brook and o'er brier, away flies the deer,- Through the wild stream he dashes, And sinks in his gore, Where the hill torrent splashes The rock-bedded shore. |