Flush the colours on their cheek,
Lovelier than the morning's break;
Scour the young knights far and wide,
As they would to battle ride,
Finding, gallant chase, in thee
Somewhat of war's mimickry.
Hark! the hunters' shouts declare
They have found the red deer's lair;
Rising from his fragrant sleep,
Where a thousand wild flowers creep,
With one sudden desperate spring
Rushes forth the forest-king,
Like the lightning from the sky,
Like the wind, when winds are high.
Far, ere yet the train were near,
Dash'd away the noble deer,
As rejoicing in the speed
Which might mock the Arab steed.
As he pass’d the forest green,
Well his pathway might he seen;
Many a heavy oaken bough
Bent before his antler'd brow;
Shout and horn rung through the wood—
Paused he not beside the flood;
Foam and flake shone on its blue,
As the gallant stag, dash'd through.
Long or ever midday came,
Wearied stopt each lovely dame,
