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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519730" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Wild Huntsman</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Wildgrave winds his bugle-horn,<br>To horse, to horse! halloo, halloo!<br>His fiery courser snuffs the morn,<br>And thronging serfs their lord pursue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The eager pack, from couples freed,<br>Dash through the bush, the brier, the brake;<br>While answering hound, and horn, and steed,<br>The mountain echoes startling wake.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The beams of God's own hallow'd day<br>Had painted yonder spire with gold,<br>And, called sinful man to pray,<br>Loud, long, and deep the bell had toll'd:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But still the Wildgrave onward rides;<br>Halloo, halloo! and, hark again!<br>When, spurring from opposing sides,<br>Two Stranger Horsemen join the train.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who was each Stranger, left and right,<br>Well may I guess, but dare not tell;<br>The right-hand steed was silver white,<br>The left, the swarthy hue of hell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The right-hand Horseman, young and fair,<br>His smile was like the morn of May;<br>The left, from eye of tawny glare,<br>Shot midnight lightning's lurid ray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He waved his huntsman's cap on high,<br>Cried, 'Welcome, welcome, noble lord!<br>What sport can earth, or sea, or sky,<br>To match the princely chase, afford?'-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Cease thy loud bugle's changing knell,'<br>Cried the fair youth, with silver voice;<br>'And for devotion's choral swell,<br>Exchange the rude unhallow'd noise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'To-day, the ill-omen'd chase forbear,<br>Yon bell yet summons to the fane;<br>To-day the Warning Spirit hear,<br>To-morrow thou mayst mourn in vain.'-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Away, and sweep the glades along!'<br>The Sable Hunter hoarse replies;<br>'To muttering monks leave matin-song<br>And bells, and books, and mysteries.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Wildgrave spurr'd his ardent steed,<br>And, launching forward with a bound,<br>'Who, for thy drowsy priestlike rede,<br>Would leave the jovial horn and hound?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Hence, if our manly sport offend!<br>With pious fools go chant and pray:-<br>Well hast thou spoke, my dark-brow'd friend;<br>Halloo, halloo! and, hark away!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Wildgrave spurr'd his courser light,<br>O'er moss and moor, o'er holt and hill;<br>And on the left and on the right,<br>Each Stranger Horseman follow'd still.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Up springs, from yonder tangled thorn,<br>A stag more white than mountain snow;<br>A louder rung the Wildgrave's horn,<br>'Hark forward, forward! holla, ho!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A heedless wretch has cross'd the way;<br>He gasps the thundering hoofs below;-<br>But, live who can, or die who may,<br>Still, 'Forward, forward!' on they go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">See, where yon simple fences meet,<br>A field with Autumn's blessings crown'd; <br>See, prostrate at the Wildgrave's feet,<br>A husbandman with toil embrown'd:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O mercy, mercy, noble lord!<br>Spare the poor's pittance,' was his cry,<br>'Earn'd by the sweat these brows have pour'd,<br>In scorching hour of fierce July.'-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads,<br>The left still cheering to the prey;<br>The impetuous Earl no warning heeds,<br>But furious holds the onward way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Away, thou hound! so basely born,<br>Or dread the scourge's echoing blow!'-<br>Then loudly rung his bugle-horn,<br>'Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So said, so done: - A single bound<br>Clears the poor labourer's humble pale;<br>Wild follows man, and horse, and hound,<br>Like dark December's stormy gale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And man and horse, and hound and horn,<br>Destructive sweep the field along;<br>While, joying o'er the wasted corn,<br>Fell Famine marks the maddening throng.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Again uproused, the timorous prey<br>Scours moss and moor, and holt and hill;<br>Hard run, he feels his strength decay,<br>And trusts for life his simple skill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Too dangerous solitude appear'd;<br>He seeks the shelter of the crowd;<br>Amid the flock's domestic herd<br>His harmless head he hopes to shroud.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O'er moss and moor, and holt and hilt,<br>His track the steady blood-hounds trace;<br>O'er moss and moor, unwearied still,<br>The furious Earl pursues the chase.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Full lowly did the herdsman fall; -<br>'O spare, thou noble Baron, spare<br>These herds, a widow's little all;<br>These flocks, an orphan's fleecy care!'-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads,<br>The left still cheering to the prey;<br>The Earl nor prayer nor pity heeds,<br>But furious keeps the onward way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Unmanner'd dog! To stop my sport<br>Vain were thy cant and beggar whine,<br>Though human spirits, of thy sort,<br>Were tenants of these carrion kine!'-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Again he winds his bugle-horn,<br>'Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!'<br>And through the herd, in ruthless scorn,<br>He cheers his furious hounds to go. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In heaps the throttled victims fall;<br>Down sinks their mangled herdsman near;<br>The murderous cries the stag appal,-<br>Again he starts, new-nerved by fear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With blood besmear'd, and white with foam,<br>While big the tears of anguish pour,<br>He seeks, amid the forest's gloom,<br>The humble hermit's hallow'd bower.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But man and horse, and horn and hound,<br>Fast rattling on his traces go;<br>The sacred chapel rung around<br>With, 'Hark away! and, holla, ho!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All mild, amid the rout profane,<br>The holy hermit pour'd his prayer;<br>'Forbear with blood God's house to stain;<br>Revere his altar, and forbear!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The meanest brute has rights to plead,<br>Which, wrong'd by cruelty, or pride,<br>Draw vengeance on the ruthless head:-<br>Be warn'd at length, and turn aside.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still the Fair Horseman anxious pleads;<br>The Black, wild whooping, points the prey:-<br>Alas! the Earl no warning heeds,<br>But frantic keeps the forward way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Holy or not, or right or wrong,<br>Thy altar, and its rites, I spurn;<br>Not sainted martyr's sacred song,<br>Not God himself, shall make me turn!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He spurs his horse, he winds his horn,<br>'Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!'-<br>But off, on whirlwind's pinions borne,<br>The stag, the hut, the hermit, go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And horse and man, and horn and hound,<br>And clamour of the chase, was gone;<br>For hoofs, and howls, and bugle-sound,<br>A deadly silence reign'd alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wild gazed the affrighted Earl around;<br>He strove in vain to wake his horn,<br>In vain to call: for not a sound<br>Could from his anxious lips be borne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He listens for his trusty hounds;<br>No distant baying reach'd his ears:<br>His courser, rooted to the ground,<br>The quickening spur unmindful bears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still dark and darker frown the shades,<br>Dark as the darkness of the grave;<br>And not a sound the still invades,<br>Save what a distant torrent gave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">High o'er the sinner's humbled head<br>At length the solemn silence broke;<br>And, from a cloud of swarthy red,<br>The awful voice of thunder spoke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Oppressor of creation fair!<br>Apostate Spirits' harden'd tool!<br>Scorner of God! Scourge of the poor!<br>The measure of thy cup is full.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Be chased for ever through the wood;<br>For ever roam the affrighted wild;<br>And let thy fate instruct the proud,<br>God's meanest creature is his child.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas hush'd: - One flash, of sombre glare,<br>With yellow tinged the forests brown;<br>Uprose the Wildgrave's bristling hair,<br>And horror chill'd each nerve and bone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cold pour'd the sweat in freezing rill;<br>A rising wind began to sing;<br>And louder, louder, louder still,<br>Brought storm and tempest on its wing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Earth heard the call;- her entrails rend;<br>From yawning rifts, with many a yell,<br>Mix'd with sulphureous flames, ascend<br>The misbegotten dogs of hell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What ghastly Huntsman next arose,<br>Well may I guess, but dare not tell;<br>His eye like midnight lightning glows,<br>His steed the swarthy hue of hell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Wildgrave flies o'er bush and thorn,<br>With many a shriek of helpless woe;<br>Behind him hound, and horse, and horn,<br>And, 'Hark away, and holla, ho!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With wild despair's reverted eye,<br>Close, close behind, he marks the throng,<br>With bloody fangs and eager cry;<br>In frantic fear he scours along.-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still, still shall last the dreadful chase,<br>Till time itself shall have an end;<br>By day, they scour earth's cavern'd space,<br>At midnight's witching hour, ascend.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This is the horn, and hound, and horse,<br>That oft the lated peasant hears;<br>Appall'd, he signs the frequent cross,<br>When the wild din invades his ears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wakeful priest oft drops a tear<br>For human pride, for human woe,<br>When, at his midnight mass, he hears<br>The infernal cry of, 'Holla, ho!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sir+Walter+Scott">Sir Walter Scott</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519730" data-title="The Wild Huntsman de Sir Walter Scott" data-description="The Wildgrave winds his bugle-horn,
To horse, to horse! halloo, halloo!
His fiery courser snuffs the morn,
And thronging serfs their lord pursue.

The eager pack, from couples freed,
Dash through the bush, the brier, the brake;
While answering hou..."></div>
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