 | The Woodman, and other poems |  |
71
THE MAGIC CASTLE.
Wind the horn,—
Said the Forester bold,
Blast the bugle,
The night falls cold,
Pathway shimmers,
Fire-fly glimmers,
How the gude-wifes will us scold.
Said the Forester bold,
Blast the bugle,
The night falls cold,
Pathway shimmers,
Fire-fly glimmers,
How the gude-wifes will us scold.
Then blew a blast,
Those hundred foresters
Upon a hundred shining horns,
The old wood stirs,
The trees in motion,
Rise and fall like an ocean,
Organs were the ghostly firs.
Those hundred foresters
Upon a hundred shining horns,
The old wood stirs,
The trees in motion,
Rise and fall like an ocean,
Organs were the ghostly firs.
72
Blast again,
My hunters strong!—
Cried the hardy Forester,
They blew a blast more loud and long,
The dogs did clamor,
And in a second,
As they ne'er reckoned,
Uprose a castle there.
My hunters strong!—
Cried the hardy Forester,
They blew a blast more loud and long,
The dogs did clamor,
And in a second,
As they ne'er reckoned,
Uprose a castle there.
Lofty sprang the ivied walls,
Blazing shone the handsome halls,
Open stood the doors and wide,—
My hunters bold!—thus cried
The jolly Forester,
Welcome the lordly cheer.
Blazing shone the handsome halls,
Open stood the doors and wide,—
My hunters bold!—thus cried
The jolly Forester,
Welcome the lordly cheer.
Spur every one his horse,
On rushing dogs and men,
Wind clear your shining bugles,
Spur and dash ye then,
Within the open gate,
And banquet in that state.—
On rushing dogs and men,
Wind clear your shining bugles,
Spur and dash ye then,
Within the open gate,
And banquet in that state.—
73
Then like a whirling sea,
The fiery cavalcade,
Poured through the courteous gate,
And the coursers played
A merry march,
By the sculptured tower and arch,
And when the last was gone,
Close together the gates swung.
The fiery cavalcade,
Poured through the courteous gate,
And the coursers played
A merry march,
By the sculptured tower and arch,
And when the last was gone,
Close together the gates swung.
Of all this host,
But one was left behind,
He was a feeble Minstrel,
With some verses in his mind;
On foot he weary was,
Nor sped with their light horse.
But one was left behind,
He was a feeble Minstrel,
With some verses in his mind;
On foot he weary was,
Nor sped with their light horse.
He saw the splendid hall,
Fade like a dream in air,
No more of man, of horse, or hound,
And in a strange despair,
He sung the halting verse,
Which we may now rehearse.—
Fade like a dream in air,
No more of man, of horse, or hound,
And in a strange despair,
He sung the halting verse,
Which we may now rehearse.—
74
Where have vanished horse and hound,—
Thus the Minstrel sang,
Hunters flying o'er the ground,
And the gates that clang,
While I linger sighing here,
In the misty evening air.
Thus the Minstrel sang,
Hunters flying o'er the ground,
And the gates that clang,
While I linger sighing here,
In the misty evening air.
No lady's eyes,
No sweet girl's flatteries,
Nor learning's pride,
Nor riches, nor the tide
Of fortune carries me,
Whither the hunter's destiny.
No sweet girl's flatteries,
Nor learning's pride,
Nor riches, nor the tide
Of fortune carries me,
Whither the hunter's destiny.
I saw the gates together fall,
The building rise in air,
And chill the night creeps slowly down,
And the star is gleaming fair,
And my heart is cold,—
O for the life of a hunter bold!
The building rise in air,
And chill the night creeps slowly down,
And the star is gleaming fair,
And my heart is cold,—
O for the life of a hunter bold!
| The Woodman, and other poems | |