A New Year's Eve, and Other Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

To chase the deer with horn and hound,
King William bent his way,
And through the forest depths profound
He swept in proud array;
Where erst the peasant's cot had stood,
The royal hunter tracked the wood
To seek his sylvan prey;
Reckless of all the grief and care
His thoughtless will had scattered there.

172

II

Vainly the monk, with warning tongue,
Had spoke of omen drear:
The monarch to his saddle sprung
Like one who knew not fear;
Nor thought he as he rode the turf,
That the small garden of the serf
To him had been as dear,
As now unto his kingly pride
The forest which his sport supplied.

III

Not thus are chronicled in Heaven
The rights and wrongs of man:
For He by whom the first were given
The last will strictly scan;
The oppressor triumphs for an hour:
But, soon or late, a holier Power
By his almighty ban
Avenges on the haughtiest head
The outrage of the meanest shed.

173

IV

'Twas near the sunset hour, the chase,
Of all that hunter train,
Had left but two with faltering pace
Its honours to obtain:
Noble and knight and yeoman stout,
Whose bugle peal or gallant shout
Had echoed o'er the plain,
Each after each, with toil out-worn,
Had ceased to follow hound or horn.

V

Sir Walter and the king were now
The only hunters there!
When, bearing high his antlered brow
With proud majestic air,
A noble stag, the greenwood's pride,
As if their laggard zeal to chide,
Sprang from his forest lair,
And bounded like a vision bright
Before the monarch and the knight.

174

VI

King Rufus drew his bow, and sped
An arrow from its string!
The haughty stag, though wounded, fled
Like wild bird on the wing;—
Straight took the archer knight his mark:
His shaft just grazed a tree's rough bark,
And then transfixed the king!
It reached his heart, for Tyrell's bow
Could scarce deal less than mortal blow.

VII

One moment gazed with grief and awe
That guiltless regicide,
And struck with speechless horror saw
The turf with crimson dyed;
The next he gave his steed the rein,
And swift as lightening o'er the plain
His eager course he hied,
Far over ocean's briny wave
To seek an exile's nameless grave.

175

VIII

A bloody corpse the Rufus lay
On that lone forest ground,
'Till those who chanced to come that way
Their late despoiler found;
To Wittanceaster's minster fair
They bore him, but brief honours there
His kingly memory crowned;
Nor did one peasant's grateful tear
Hallow the royal hunter's bier.