The Solitary Huntsman
The solitary huntsman
No coat of pink doth wear,
But midnight black from cap to spur
Upon his midnight mare.
He drones a tuneless jingle
In lieu of tally-ho:
“I’ll catch a fox
And put him in a box
And never let him go.”
The solitary huntsman,
He follows silent hounds.
No horn proclaims his joyless sport,
And never a hoofbeat sounds.
His hundred hounds, his thousands,
Their master’s will they know:
To catch a fox
And put him in a box
And never let him go.
For all the fox’s doubling
They track him to his den.
The chase may fill a morning,
Or threescore years and ten.
The huntsman never sated
Screaks to his saddlebow,
“I’ll catch another fox
And put him in a box
And never let him go.”
poem by Ogden Nash
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Related quotes
Hounds going home in the Dark
Rustle of feet in the roadside grass,
Trample of horses' hoofs, and - Hark!
Blast of an anxious horn! Hounds pass;
Hounds going home in the dark.
Bold was our huntsman galloping free
On a difficult line to the hills to-day,
But his hand is trembling against his knee
At the hint of a light on the King's Highway.
‘ Car!' And the gold spreads over the sky ;
‘ Keep to the front there! Stop them, Mark!
' Toot-toot-too-oot ! - ' Halloo, there !-Hi ! ‘-
Hounds going home in the dark.
Crack of a whip as the headlights near-
Blind in the blaze they group and grope.
‘ Curse the feller, and can't he hear?
Put 'em across, there I-Cope, boys, cope! '
When never a star is hung in the sky,
With never a lamp or a lantern spark,
Huntsman and Whips go groping by,
Blowing them home in the dark.
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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The Ballad Of The Foxhunter
'Lay me in a cushioned chair;
Carry me, ye four,
With cushions here and cushions there,
To see the world once more.
'To stable and to kennel go;
Bring what is there to bring;
Lead my Lollard to and fro,
Or gently in a ring.
'Put the chair upon the grass:
Bring Rody and his hounds,
That I may contented pass
From these earthly bounds.'
His eyelids droop, his head falls low,
His old eyes cloud with dreams;
The sun upon all things that grow
Falls in sleepy streams.
Brown Lollard treads upon the lawn,
And to the armchair goes,
And now the old man's dreams are gone,
He smooths the long brown nose.
And now moves many a pleasant tongue
Upon his wasted hands,
For leading aged hounds and young
The huntsman near him stands.
'Huntsmam Rody, blow the horn,
Make the hills reply.'
The huntsman loosens on the morn
A gay wandering cry.
Fire is in the old man's eyes,
His fingers move and sway,
And when the wandering music dies
They hear him feebly say,
'Huntsman Rody, blow the horn,
Make the hills reply.'
'I cannot blow upon my horn,
I can but weep and sigh.'
Servants round his cushioned place
Are with new sorrow wrung;
Hounds are gazing on his face,
Aged hounds and young.
One blind hound only lies apart
On the sun-smitten grass;
He holds deep commune with his heart:
The moments pass and pass:
The blind hound with a mournful din
Lifts slow his wintry head;
The servants bear the body in;
The hounds wail for the dead.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Hope The Hornblower
'Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;
Sluggards, awake, and front the morn!
Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;
The sun's on meadow and mill.
Follow me, hearts that love the chase;
Follow me, feet that keep the pace:
Stirrup to stirrup we ride, we ride,
We ride by moor and hill.'
Huntsman, huntsman, whither away?
What is the quarry afoot to-day?
Huntsman, huntsman, whither away,
And what the game ye kill?
Is it the deer, that men may dine?
Is it the wolf that tears the kine?
What is the race ye ride, ye ride,
Ye ride by moor and hill?
'Ask not yet till the day be dead
What is the game that's forward fled,
Ask not yet till the day be dead
The game we follow still.
An echo it may be, floating past;
A shadow it may be, fading fast:
Shadow or echo, we ride, we ride,
We ride by moor and hill'
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Midnight Rider
Words and music by greg allman
I got to run to keep from hidin
And Im bound to keep on ridin
I got one more silver dollar
But Im not gonna let them catch
The midnight rider
I got only the clothes Im wearin
And the road goes on forever
I got one more silver dollar
And Im not gonna let them catch
The midnight rider
I own all the clothes Im wearin
Some old bed Ill soon be sharin
Got me one more silver dollar
And Im not gonna let them catch
The midnight rider
Not gonna let em catch me
Not gonna let em catch me
Not gonna let em catch me
Not gonna let em catch me
Not gonna let em catch me
Not gonna let em catch me
Not gonna let em catch me
Not gonna let em catch me
Come on
Keep on riding
Keep on riding
Keep on riding
Midnight, midnight rider
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wild Huntsman
Thy rest was deep at the slumberer's hour
If thou didst not hear the blast
Of the savage horn, from the mountain-tower,
As the Wild Night-Huntsman pass'd,
And the roar of the stormy chase went by,
Through the dark unquiet sky!
The stag sprung up from his mossy bed
When he caught the piercing sounds,
And the oak-boughs crash'd to his antler'd head
As he flew from the viewless hounds;
And the falcon soar'd from her craggy height,
Away through the rushing night!
The banner shook on its ancient hold,
And the pine in its desert-place,
As the cloud and tempest onward roll'd
With the din of the trampling race;
And the glens were fill'd with the laugh and shout,
And the bugle, ringing out!
From the chieftain's hand the wine-cup fell,
At the castle's festive board,
And a sudden pause came o'er the swell
Of the harp's triumphal chord;
And the Minnesinger's thrilling lay
In the hall died fast away.
The convent's chanted rite was stay'd,
And the hermit dropp'd his beads,
And a trembling ran through the forest-shade,
At the neigh of the phantom steeds,
And the church-bells peal'd to the rocking blast
As the Wild Night-Huntsman pass'd.
The storm hath swept with the chase away,
There is stillness in the sky,
But the mother looks on her son to-day,
With a troubled heart and eye,
And the maiden's brow hath a shade of care
Midst the gleam of her golden hair!
The Rhine flows bright, but its waves ere long
Must hear a voice of war,
And a clash of spears our hills among,
And a trumpet from afar;
And the brave on a bloody turf must lie,
For the Huntsman hath gone by!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Midnight Rider (feat. The Allman Brothers Band)
originally by Allman Brothers Band
Well, I've got to run to keep from hiding
And I'm bound to keep on riding
And I've got one more silver dollar
But I'm not gonna let them catch me, no
Not gonna let 'em catch the Midnight Rider
And I don't own the clothes I'm wearing
And the road goes on forever
And I've got one more silver dollar
But I'm not gonna let them catch me, no
Not gonna let 'em catch the Midnight Rider
And I've gone by the point of caring
Some old bed I'll soon be sharing
And I've got one more silver dollar
(Repeat three times and Fade)
But I'm not gonna let 'em catch me, no
Not gonna let them catch the Midnight Rider
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Midnight Rider
Well, Ive got to run to keep from hiding,
And Im bound to keep on riding.
And Ive got one more silver dollar,
But Im not gonna let them catch me, no,
Not gonna let em catch the midnight rider.
And I dont own the clothes Im wearing,
And the road goes on forever,
And Ive got one more silver dollar,
But Im not gonna let them catch me, no
Not gonna let em catch the midnight rider.
And Ive gone by the point of caring,
Some old bed Ill soon be sharing,
And Ive got one more silver dollar,
Repeat three times and fade
But Im not gonna let em catch me, no
Not gonna let them catch the midnight rider.
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Opening Run
The rain-sodden grass in the ditches is dying,
The berries are red to the crest of the thorn ;
Coronet-deep where the beech leaves are lying
The hunters stand tense to the twang of the horn ;
Where rides are re-filled with the green of the mosses,
All foam-flecked and fretful their long line is strung,
You can see the white gleam as a starred forehead tosses,
You can hear the low chink as a bit-bar is flung.
The world's full of music. Hounds rustle the rover
Through brushwood and fern to a glad 'Gone away!'
With a 'Come along, Pilot! '-one spur-touch and over-
The huntsman is clear on his galloping grey;
Before him the pack's running straight on the stubble-
Toot-toot-too-too-too-oot ! ,_, Tow-row-ow-ow-ow ! '
The leaders are clambering up through the double
And glittering away on the brown of the plough.
The front rank, hands down, have the big fence's measure;
The faint hearts are craning to left and to right;
The Master goes through with a crash on The Treasure,
The grey takes the lot like a gull in his flight.
There's a brown crumpled up, lying still as a dead one.
There 's a roan mare refusing, as stubborn as sin,
While the breaker flogs up on a green underbred one
And smashes the far-away rail with a grin.
The chase carries on over hilltop and hollow,
The life of Old England, the pluck and the fun;
And who would ask more than a stiff line to follow
With hounds running hard in the Opening Run?
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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A Fairy Hunt
Who would hear the fairy horn
Calling all the hounds of Finn
Must be in a lark's nest born
When the moon is very thin.
I who have the gift can hear
Hounds and horn and tally ho,
And the tongue of Bran as clear
As Christmas bells across the snow.
And beside my secret place
Hurries by the fairy fox,
With the moonrise on his face,
Up and down the mossy rocks.
Then the music of a horn
And the flash of scarlet men,
Thick as poppies in the corn
All across the dusky glen.
Oh! the mad delight of chase!
Oh ! the shouting and the cheer !
Many an owl doth leave his place
In the dusty tree to hear.
poem by Francis Ledwidge
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Uhland's White Stag
Into the woods three huntsmen came,
Seeking the white stag for their game.
They laid them under a green fir-tree
And slept, and dreamed strange things to see.
(FIRST HUNTSMAN)
I dreamt I was beating the leafy brush,
When out popped the noble stag--hush, hush!
(SECOND HUNTSMAN)
As ahead of the clamorous pack he sprang,
I pelted him hard in the hide--piff, bang!
(THIRD HUNTSMAN)
And as that stag lay dead I blew
On my horn a lusty tir-ril-la-loo!
So speak the three as there they lay
When lo! the white stag sped that way,
Frisked his heels at those huntsmen three,
Then leagues o'er hill and dale was he--
Hush, hush! Piff, bang! Tir-ril-la-loo!
poem by Eugene Field
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The Moon.
The moon
Oh catch the moon
Put a noose in its nose
Bring it back to harness
The icy wilderness of the noon
Sprinkle it with flowered dew.
Catch it before it runs
To penumbra of sun hide itself
Oh run and run to recover
From suffocation of grief & bart
Stiffen its dust with tears
Or the ceremonial flood
Of the tidings of the present
The anti poetic
Peregrine of the sedged cart
The olibanum of crushed heart.
The moon
Oh catch the moon
Catch it till it runs
To the hilliard mansions
The septic pun
Where the master of hounds sleep
With his metallic face
Turned to the wall
Where under the greenish shadows
Shines the dool
The moon
Oh catch the moon
Catch it before it runs
To the penumbra of the sun.
poem by Durlabh Singh
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Amoretti LXVII: Like as a Huntsman
Like as a huntsman after weary chase,
Seeing the game from him escap'd away,
Sits down to rest him in some shady place,
With panting hounds beguiled of their prey:
So after long pursuit and vain assay,
When I all weary had the chase forsook,
The gentle deer return'd the self-same way,
Thinking to quench her thirst at the next brook.
There she beholding me with milder look,
Sought not to fly, but fearless still did bide:
Till I in hand her yet half trembling took,
And with her own goodwill her firmly tied.
Strange thing, me seem'd, to see a beast so wild,
So goodly won, with her own will beguil'd.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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The Tamed Deer
Like as a huntsman after weary chase
Seeing the game from him escaped away,
Sits down to rest him in some shady place,
With panting hounds beguiled of their prey:
So, after long pursuit and vain assay,
When I all weary had the chase forsook,
The gentle deer returned the self-same way,
Thinking to quench her thirst at the next brook.
There she beholding me with milder look,
Sought not to fly, but fearless still did bide;
Till I in hand her yet half trembling took,
And with her own good-will her firmly tied.
Strange thing, me seemed, to see a beast so wild
So goodly won, with her own will beguiled.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking:
Dream of battled fields no more,
Days of danger, nights of waking.
In our isle's enchanted hall,
Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,
Fairy strains of music fall,
Every sense in slumber dewing.
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Dream of fighting fields no more:
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
No rude sound shall reach thine ear,
Armour's clang, or war-steed champing,
Trump nor pibroch summon here
Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come
At the day-break from the fallow,
And the bittern sound his drum,
Booming from the sedgy shallow.
Ruder sounds shall none be near,
Guards nor warders challenge here,
Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing,
Shouting clans or squadrons stamping.
Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done,
While our slumbrous spells assail ye,
Dream not, with the rising sun,
Bugles here shall sound reveillé.
Sleep! the deer is in his den;
Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying;
Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen,
How thy gallant steed lay dying.
Huntsman, rest; thy chase is done,
Think not of the rising sun,
For at dawning to assail ye,
Here no bugles sound reveillé.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Catch A Fire
Me and you
Ooh
In the heat of the sun
Our life has begun
Like a flame
Me and you
Ooh
All alone in the sand
I will burn in your hand
And my sould will arise to the sky
Catch a wind, catch a rainbow, catch a fire
Catch a fire, catch a fire
Catch a wind, catch a rainbow, catch a fire
Catch a wind, catch a rainbow, catch a fire
Catch a fire
Me and you
Ooh
In the night we will hide
In the flow of the tide
Oh the shore
Me and you
Ooh
There's a message for me
In the sound fo the sea
I must hold you and never let go
You just gotta go
All you need
You can have
All my, all my, all my love
song performed by by Haddaway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lady of the Lake: Canto 1 (excerpt)
SONG
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking:
Dream of battled fields no more,
Days of danger, nights of waking.
In our isle's enchanted hall,
Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,
Fairy strains of music fall,
Every sense in slumber dewing.
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Dream of fighting fields no more:
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
No rude sound shall reach thine ear,
Armour's clang, or war-steed champing,
Trump nor pibroch summon here
Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come
At the day-break from the fallow,
And the bittern sound his drum,
Booming from the sedgy shallow.
Ruder sounds shall none be near,
Guards nor warders challenge here,
Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing,
Shouting clans or squadrons stamping....
Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done,
While our slumbrous spells assail ye,
Dream not, with the rising sun,
Bugles here shall sound reveillé.
Sleep! the deer is in his den;
Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying;
Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen,
How thy gallant steed lay dying.
Huntsman, rest; thy chase is done,
Think not of the rising sun,
For at dawning to assail ye,
Here no bugles sound reveillé.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Every man who can blow a horn is not a huntsman.
Catch Me Up
Hello, hello, I'm glad to see you
Now we'll only stop to say goodbye
We'll go, we'll go just where we want to
We won't let the others bleed us dry
'Cause I am but a fool for you, that's right
And I got nothing to lose that I'd choose tonight
Come on, come on we should be leaving
But I let another one go by
Oh no, oh no, I couldn't leave you
Though I know they'd like to make me try
'Cause I shot down the moon for you, that's right
'Cause I got something to prove to you tonight
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up
You know, you know I want to please you
And now's the time to let me try
Will you, will you do as I do?
Will you wait for me it's do or die?
'Cause I don't ever wanna see you cry
Yeah, I will never leave you high and dry
I, yeah, I...
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me
I will always wait for you to catch me
I will always wait for you to catch me
I will always wait for you to catch me
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Runnable Stag
When the pods went pop on the broom, green broom,
And apples began to be golden-skinn'd,
We harbour'd a stag in the Priory coomb,
And we feather'd his trail up-wind, up-wind,
We feather'd his trail up-wind-
A stag of warrant, a stag, a stag,
A runnable stag, a kingly crop,
Brow, bay and tray and three on top,
A stag, a runnable stag.
Then the huntsman's horn rang yap, yap yap,
And 'Forwards' we heard the harbourer shout;
But 'twas only a brocket that broke a gap
In the beechen underwood, driven out,
From the underwood antler'd out
By warrant and might of the stag, the stag,
The runnable stag, whose lordly mind
Was bent on sleep though beam'd and tined
He stood, a runnable stag
So we tufted the covert till afternoon
With Tinkerman's Pup and Bell- of-the-North;
And hunters were sulky and hounds out of tune
Before we tufted the right stag forth,
Before we tufted him forth,
The stag of warrant, the wily stag,
The runnable stag with his kingly crop,
Brow, bay and tray and three on top,
The royal and runnable stag.
It was Bell-of-the-North and Tinkerman's Pup
That stuck to the scent till the copse was drawn.
'Tally ho! tally ho!' and the hunt was up,
The tufters whipp'd and the pack laid on,
The resolute pack laid on,
And the stag of warrant away at last,
The runnable stag, the same, the same,
His hoofs on fire, his horns like flame,
A stag, a runnable stag.
'Let your gelding be: if you check or chide
He stumbles at once and you're out of the hunt
For three hundred gentlemen, able to ride,
On hunters accustom'd to bear the brunt,
Accustom'd to bear the brunt,
Are after the runnable stag, the stag,
The runnable stag with his kingly crop,
Brow, bay and tray and three on top,
The right, the runnable stag.
By perilous paths in coomb and dell,
The heather, the rocks, and the river-bed,
The pace grew hot, for the scent lay well,
And a runnable stag goes right ahead,
The quarry went right ahead--
Ahead, ahead, and fast and far;
His antler'd crest, his cloven hoof,
Brow, bay and tray and three aloof,
The stag, the runnable stag.
For a matter of twenty miles and more,
By the densest hedge and the highest wall,
Through herds of bullocks lie baffled the lore
Of harbourer, huntsman, hounds and all,
Of harbourer, hounds and all
The stag of warrant, the wily stag,
For twenty miles, and five and five,
He ran, and he never was caught alive,
This stag, this runnable stag.
When he turn'd at bay in the leafy gloom,
In the emerald gloom where the brook ran deep
He heard in the distance the rollers boom,
And he saw In a vision of peaceful sleep
In a wonderful vision of sleep,
A stag of warrant, a stag, a stag,
A runnable stag in a jewell'd bed,
Under the sheltering ocean dead,
A stag, a runnable stag.
So a fateful hope lit up his eye,
And he open'd his nostrils wide again,
And he toss'd his branching antlers high
As he headed the hunt down the Charlock glen,
As he raced down the echoing glen
For five miles more, the stag, the stag,
For twenty miles, and five and five,
Not to be caught now, dead or alive,
The stag, the runnable stag.
Three hundred gentleman, able to ride,
Three hundred horses as gallant and free,
Beheld him escape on the evening tide,
Far out till he sank in the Severn Sea,
Till he sank in the depths of the sea
The stag, the buoyant stag, the stag
That slept at last in a jewell'd bed
Under the sheltering ocean spread,
The stag, the runnable stag.
poem by John Davidson
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Midnight
They put away the DDT now
But gave metal to the sea
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
The only eagle, only tree
Within a desert that was green
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
Midnight
Draws ever near
Daylight
Is fading so fast
It's so close to midnight
Midnight
The melting ice will fuel the sea
By burning gold from ancient tree
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
This is progress, this is sin
Injecting poison in her skin
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
Midnight
Draws ever near
Daylight
Is fading so fast
It's so close to midnight
Midnight
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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