 | Later Lyrics |  |
76
THE SOUL-HUNTER.
Who hunts so late 'neath evening skies,
A smouldering love-brand in his eyes?
His locks outshame the black of night,
Its stars are duller than his sight
Who hunts so late, so dark.
A smouldering love-brand in his eyes?
His locks outshame the black of night,
Its stars are duller than his sight
Who hunts so late, so dark.
A drooping mantle shrouds his form,
To shield him from the winter's storm?
Or is there something at his side,
That, with himself, he strives to hide,
Who hunts so late, so dark?
To shield him from the winter's storm?
Or is there something at his side,
That, with himself, he strives to hide,
Who hunts so late, so dark?
He hath such promise, silver sweet,
Such silken hands, such fiery feet,
That, where his look has charmed the prey,
His swift-winged passion forces way,
Who hunts so late, so dark.
Such silken hands, such fiery feet,
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His swift-winged passion forces way,
Who hunts so late, so dark.
Sure no one underneath the moon
Can whisper to so soft a tune:
The hours would flit from dusk to dawn
Lighter than dews upon the lawn
With him, so late, so dark.
Can whisper to so soft a tune:
The hours would flit from dusk to dawn
Lighter than dews upon the lawn
With him, so late, so dark.
But, should there break a day of need,
Those hands will try no valorous deed:
No help is in that sable crest,
Nor manhood in that hollow breast
That sighed so late, so dark.
Those hands will try no valorous deed:
No help is in that sable crest,
Nor manhood in that hollow breast
That sighed so late, so dark.
O maiden! of the salt waves make
Thy sinless shroud, for God's dear sake;
Or to the flame commit thy bloom;
Or lock thee, living, in the tomb
So desolate and dark,—
Thy sinless shroud, for God's dear sake;
Or to the flame commit thy bloom;
Or lock thee, living, in the tomb
So desolate and dark,—
78
Before thou list one stolen word
Of him who lures thee like a bird.
He wanders with the Devil's bait,
For human souls he lies in wait,
Who hunts so late, so dark.
Of him who lures thee like a bird.
He wanders with the Devil's bait,
For human souls he lies in wait,
Who hunts so late, so dark.
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