THE STAG.
87
THE STAG.
There courses a stag through the land so wide,
And o’er the mountains free;
O’er hill and dale he bounds along,
His antlers are fair to see.
With the antlers fair, that his brow doth bear,
Thro’ the thick wood bursts his way,
And on his feet, that are so fleet,
Doth in the forest play.
There paces a youth on the mountains high,
Thro’ the vales to war he goes,
Proud weapons on his shoulders bears,
With weapons strong bursts through the throng
And close array of foes.
No more ’s the youth on the mountain high;
With craft his savage foe
Doth on him spring; his look is dark,
His eyes with fury glow.
With heavy axe he smites his breast,
The woods with sorrow sigh;
