XLIX.
SONG.
1
“It was in the days, when the sons of the chace
Their prey, like the heroes of battle, pursued,
That Reginald, first of the Valetort race,
Arm'd with spearand with arrow, reign'd prince of the wood.
To the blast of his bugles his steeds neigh'd aloud;
And his staghounds were swift as the bolts from the cloud!
Then let us pour out to the chieftain of yore,
And enrich with red Velez “the feast of the boar.”
2
When array'd for the sport, ere he enter'd the glen,
The stag sobb'd and wept and crouch'd down in its lair;
The wolf growl'd with fear in the depth of her den,
And the fox on her cubs cast a terrified glare:
With a shrill shriek of pleasure sail'd slowly the kite,
And his black wing the raven flapp'd wild with delight.
Then let us pour out to the chieftain of yore,
And enrich with red Velez “the feast of the boar.”
3
With the fierce tiger cat whilst the bending oaks bled,
And murmur'd, as if to his prowess, applause;
The horrent boar fell to his battle-axe dead;
And deckt was his couch with tusks, antlers and claws:
But, as proof against wounds thro' the wand
There was one griesly foe still eluded his lance!
Then let us pour out to the chieftain of yore,
And enrich with red Velez “the feast of the boar.”
4
One morn, to his hounds and the shrillyton'd clarion
And the hoofs of his horses reechoed the heath;
With the blood of one boar was besprinkled his morion,
And another lay bristling and gasping in death:
But the savage so dreaded, the inveterate foe
Had just glimps'd thro' the thicket and shrunk from the blow.
Then let us pour out to the chieftain of yore,
And enrich with red Velez “the feast of the boar.”
5
Yet scarce had the hero breath'd twice, ere was parted
The dingle's deep umbrage; and rush'd, thro' the dusk,
In the foam of his rage e'en to scare the stouthearted,
On men, dogs and horses, that terrible tusk;
On a hunter's gor'd hams half-extinguish'd his ire,
And, flesh'd in a hound, bade him howl and expire.
Then let us pour out to the chieftain of yore,
And enrich with red Velez “the feast of the boar.”
6
Nor, ere he had broken a javelin and dirk,
Could Reginald give him to pant in the dust:
'Twas then down his throat, to accomplish the work,
Did the Knight a keen dagger triumphantly thrust:
His broad neck relaxing, unbristled his pride,
The monster groan'd horribly, struggled and died.
Then let us pour out to the chieftain of yore,
And enrich with red Velez “the feast of the boar.”
8
To blazon the deed, hath the hall yearly sounded;
And grimly in silver the banner'd boar stream'd:
And, whilst every bosom to revelry bounded,
Perch'd high on the rafters the gyrfalcon scream'd.
Tho' heroic the feat, yet in chivalrous fires
The sons, in each age, rose—to rival their sires!
Then let us pour out to the chieftain of yore,
And enrich with red Velez “the feast of the boar.”
