The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott ... Notes & life of the author.

THE WILD HUNTSMEN.
See, prostrate at the Wildgrave's feet.
A. husbandman, with toil embrown'd:
"0 mercy, mercy, noble lord!
Spare the poor's pittance," was his cry,
Earn'd by the sweat these brows have pour'd.
In scorching hour of fierce July."Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads,
The left still cheering to the prey;
Th' impetuous Earl no warning heeds,
But furious holds the onward way.
"Away, thou hound! so basely born,
Or dread the scourge's echoing blowl"Then loudly rung his bugle horn,
"Hark forward, forward, holla, hol"
So said, so done:-A single bound
Clears the poor labourer's humble pale;
Wild follows man, and horse, and hound,
Like dark December's stormy gale,
And man, and' horse, and hound, and horn,
Destructive sweep the field along;
While, joying o'er the wasted corn,
Fell Famine marks the madd'ning throng.
Again up-rous'd the tim'rous prey
Scours. moss, and moor, and holt, and hill
Hard run, he feels his strength decay,
And trusts for life his simple skill.
Too dangerous solitude appear'd;
lie seeks the shelter of the crowd,
Amid the flock's domestic herd
His harmless head he hopes to shroud.
O'er moss, and moor, and holt, and hill,
His track the steady blood-hounds trace,
O'er- moss and moor, unwearied still,
The furious Earl pursues the cha'e.
Full lowly did the herdsman fall; —
"O spare, thoen noble Baron, spare
Those herds, a widow's little all;
These flocks, an orphan's fleecy care."
Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads,
The lift still cheering to the pre y;