the vernal skies, his face
With heavenly radiance glow'd.

The left spurr'd fast his fiery barb,
Red as the furnace flame;
Sullen he loured, and from his eyes
The death-like lightning came.

'Right welcome to our noble sport;'
The baron greets them fair;
'For well I wot ye hold it good
To banish moping care.

'No pleasure equal to the chase,
Or earth, or heaven can yield;'
He spoke,--he waved his cap in air,
And foremost rushed afield.

'Turn thee!' the milder horseman cries;
'Turn thee from horns and hounds!
Hear'st not the bells, hear'st not the quire,
Mingle their sacred sounds?

'They drown the clamor of the chase;
Oh! hunt not then to-day,
Nor let a fiend's advice destroy
Thy better angel's sway.'

'Hunt on, hunt on,' his comrade cries,
'Nor heed yon dotard's spell;
What is the bawling quire to us?
Or what the jangling bell?

'Well may the chase delight thee more;
And well may'st learn from me,
How brave, how princely is our sport,
From bigot terrors free.'

'Well said! well said! in thee I own
A hero's kindled fire;
These pious fool'ries move not us,
We reck nor priest, nor quire.

'And thou, believe me, saintlike dolt,
Thy bigot rage is vain;
From prayers and beadrolls, what delight
Can sportsmen hope to gain?'

Still hurry, hurry, on they speed
O'er valley, hill and plain;
And ever at the baron's side
Attend the horsemen twain.

See, panting, see, a milk-white hart
Up-springs from yonder thorn:
'Now swiftly ply both horse and foot;
Now louder wind the horn!'

See, falls a huntsman! see, his limbs
The pangs of death distort!
'Lay there and rot: no caitiff's death
Shall mar our princely sport.'

Light bounds with deftest speed the hart,
Wide o'er the country borne;
Now closer prest a refuge seeks
Where waves the ripening corn.

See, the poor owner of the field
Approach with tearful eyes;
'O pity, pity, good my lords!'
Alas! in vain he cries.

'O spare what little store the poor
By bitter sweat can earn!'
Now soft the milder horseman warns
The baron to return.

Not so persuades his stern compeer,
Best pleas'd with darkest deeds;
Tis his to sway the baron's h