l flecked with foam, all quivering
With weariness and fear,
Crouched at his feet the hunted thing,
His gentle friend, the Deer.

Behind her bayed the pack of hounds,
Their cruel teeth gleamed white,
Nearing with eager leaps and bounds;
He turned sick at the sight.

Saint Giles looked down upon the Deer,
Saint Giles looked up again,
He saw the danger drawing near,
The death, with all its pain.

He laid his hand upon her head,
The soft head of his friend,--
"And shall I let thee die?" he said,
"And watch thy hapless end?"

He stooped and gently murmured, "Nay!"
Stroking her mottled side,
He stepped before her where she lay;
"They slay me first!" he cried.

Her frightened eyes looked up at him,
Her little heart beat high,
She trembled sore in every limb,--
The bushes parted nigh.

"Halloo! Halloo!" the huntsmen cried
As through the hedge they burst;
An archer all in green espied
The crouching quarry first.

Swift as a thought his arrow flew,
Saint Giles threw out his arm,
Alack! the aim was all too true,
Saint Giles must bear the harm.

The arrow pierced too well, too well;
All in that mournful wood
Saint Giles upon the greensward fell,
And dyed it with his blood.

He fell, but falling laid his hand
Upon the trembling Deer,--
"My life for hers, dost understand?"
He cried so all could hear.

Now as upon the green he lay
All in a deathly swound,
The King dashed up with courtiers gay
And looked upon his wound;

The King rode up, and "Ho!" he cried,
"Whom find we in our wood?
Who spares the deer with mottled hide?
Who sheds an old man's blood?"

The King looked down with ruthful eye
When all the thing was told,
"Alack!" he cried, "he must not die,
So kind a man and bold.

"Bear me the Saint into his cave;
Who falls to save his friend
Deserves for leech his King to have;
I will his pallet tend."