At first cry of the quest quakèd the deer
And doting for dread went away up the dale,
Hied to the heights, but angerly there
Were stay’d at the stations, that stoutly ascried.
The high-headed harts they let háve a passage,
And the brave bucks too, with the broad antlers;
For in fermison months the master had bidden
That no man should meddle with the mále dèer.
But the hinds they held in, with a Hey! and a Ware!
And with din drove the does, down to the valleys.
Then sharp was the shooting of wingèd shafts!
At each woodland glade whistled an arrow
That on brown hide bit, with its broád bàrb;
How they bray’d and bled, on bank as they died!
And running on a race, hounds rush’d in pursuit,
Hunters with horns hasten’d them after,
With a cracking cry as if cliffs had bursten!
And any that scaped the shafts of the shooters
With a stour were stay’d and torn at the stations,
By the time they had been turn’d and teas’d to the waters;
So wary were the wights that watch’d in the vale,
And the greyhounds so great, that gripp’d them anon
And fell’d them to ground, fast as e’er look
ye might.
The lord, like happy boy,
Rode and did oft alight;
He drove that day with joy
A-hunting till the night.