Page:Poems Jackson.djvu/67

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TRUE BALLAD OF THE KING'S SINGER.
39
When sunset turned the hills all red,
The royal hunt went still and slow;
The king's great horse with weary tread
Plunged ankle-deep in snow.

Sudden a strain of music sweet,
Unearthly sweet, came through the wood;
Up sprang the king, and on both feet
Straight in his saddle stood.

"Now, by our lady, be it bird,
Or be it man or elf who plays,
Never before my ears have heard
A music fit for praise!"

Sullen and tired, the royal hunt
Followed the king, who tracked the song,
Unthinking, as is royal wont,
How hard the way and long.

Stretched on a rock the shepherd lay
And dreamed and piped, and dreamed and sang,
And careless heard the shout and bay
With which the echoes rang.

"Up, man! the king!" the hunters cried.
He slowly stood, and, wondering,
Turned honest eyes from side to side:
To him, each looked like king.

Strange shyness seized the king's bold tongue;
He saw how easy to displease
This savage man who stood among
His courtiers, so at ease.