Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Huntsman's Dirge

The Huntsman's Dirge.

The smiling morn may light the sky,
And joy may dance in beauty's eye,
Aurora's beams to see;
The mellow horn's inspiring sound
May call the blithe companions round,
But who shall waken thee,
Ronald?
Thon ne'er wilt hear the mellow horn,
Thou ne'er wilt quaff the breath of morn,
Nor join thy friends with glee;
No glorious sun shall gild thy day,
And beauty's fascinating ray
No more shall shine on thee,
Ronald!