The Forest Sanctuary, and Other Poems/The Wild Huntsman

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
For other versions of this work, see The Wild Huntsman.





THE WILD HUNTSMAN.




It is a popular belief in the Odenwald, that the passing of the Wild Huntsman announces the approach of war. He is supposed to issue with his train from the ruined castle of Rodenstein, and traverse the air to the opposite castle of Schnellerts. It is confidently asserted that the sound of his phantom horses and hounds was heard by the Duke of Baden before the commencement of the last war in Germany.




Thy rest was deep at the slumberer's hour
    If thou didst not hear the blast
Of the savage horn, from the mountain-tower,
    As the Wild Night-Huntsman pass'd.
And the roar of the stormy chase went by,
    Through the dark unquiet sky!


The stag sprung up from his mossy bed
    When he caught the piercing sounds,
And the oak-boughs crash'd to his antler'd head
    As he flew from the viewless hounds;
And the falcon soar'd from her craggy height,
    Away through the rushing night!

The banner shook on its ancient hold,
    And the pine in its desert-place,
As the cloud and tempest onward roll'd
    With the din of the trampling race;
And the glens were fill'd with the laugh and shout,
    And the bugle, ringing out!

From the chieftain's hand the wine-cup fell,
    At the castle's festive board,
And a sudden pause came o'er the swell
    Of the harp's triumphal chord;
And the Minnesinger's*[1] thrilling lay
    In the hall died fast away.


The convent's chanted rite was stay’d,
    And the hermit dropp'd his beads,
And a trembling ran through the forest-shade,
    At the neigh of the phantom steeds,
And the church-bells peal'd to the rocking blast
    As the Wild Night-Huntsman pass'd.

The storm hath swept with the chase away,
    There is stillness in the sky,
But the mother looks on her son to-day,
    With a troubled heart and eye,
And the maiden's brow hath a shade of care
    Midst the gleam of her golden hair!

The Rhine flows bright, but its waves ere long
    Must hear a voice of war,
And a clash of spears our hills among,
    And a trumpet from afar;
And the brave on a bloody turf must lie,
    For the Huntsman hath gone by!

  1. * Minnesinger, love-singer; the wandering minstrels of Germany were so called in the middle ages.