THE HUNTER:

A POEM.

CANTO IV.

AND now the war-inciting clarions sound,

And neighing coursers paw the trembling ground.
At once they move, majestically slow,
To pour their headlong force upon the foe;

Then stop, and, awful, solemn silence reigns,
Along the sable walls, and frowning plains.
When, wrapt in all the majesty of state,
Adorned with all the honours of the great,

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The king, resplendent on his regal car,

Shines awful in the iron front of war:

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He stood, then stretched his sceptre; all around

Hang in attention to the grateful sound.

Down to the dust he bends his reverend head,

And to the Almighty, supplicating, pray'd.
O great unknown-O all-creating mind,

In greatness lost, Almighty, unconfin'd

To space or time, whose mighty hand informs
The rattling tempests, and the sable storms,

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Absorb'd in light, O vast infinitude!
Incomprehensible, supremely good,

Attend, O heavenly! from thy glory hear,

And to a dust-formed worm incline thine ear!

String the firm arm, and teach the hand to fight;
Confound the proud, that trust in mortal might.
All own thy sway, and at thy great command
Success attends the weak and feeble hand.

Thus said, the devout monarch suppliant bowed,.

And muttering prayers ran along the crowd.

In dazzling arms the chiefs terrific shine,

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Glide through the ranks, and form the lengthening line. 50
While from the embattled foc a hero strode;

A coat of mail hangs from his shoulders broad;
On his high towering head terrific waved
A crested helmet that the sabre braved.
On his left hand he bears a spacious shield,
Glittering with iron terrour o'er the field;
And in his right he waves the shining blade.
He greatly stood—and thus provoking said:
Ye Scots, ye nation full of fraud and guile!
Ye mean descendants of a barren soil!
Let one advance (the bravest I demand),
And fall a victim to my conquering hand;
Forget your fears, your wonted fears controul,
Let fate enlarge the ever little soul.

He said; and rage, in tickling poison, ran
Through every soul, and stung each generous man.
The Hunter heard; rage sparkled from his eyes,
And from his inmost soul the hero sighs;

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Then thus indignant spoke :-Ah! glory gone!

Ah! ancient virtue now for ever flown!
What blessed corner does the godhead rest?

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No more you swell the generous Scottish breast,

When thus, O Scotland! Saxons dare deride

Thy steel-clad warriors, ranged side by side

I can no more-my panting vitals swell;

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I'll give thee glory, or thy soul to hell!

Then towards the foe the youth indignant moved:

Fear trembles, en'mies praise, and envy loved.

He strides along the men-environed ground;

His rattling arms emit an iron sound:
The Saxon saw, advanced, nor looked behind,
Fate hurried on, and courage steel'd his mind.
Bright in effulgent arms the youths appeared;
Each o'er the plain a steely column reared:
They rush together; clashing arms afar
Reflect the horrours of the dismal war.

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Awful the blades wave gleaming in the sky,
And from the crashing steel the sparkles fly.
They fight, and, wearied, cease, and fight again;
Their feet bake dust with blood upon the plain.
Death undetermined points to each his stings',
And conquest flutters round on dubious wings.
The hill-born youth reminds, with anxious care,

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What vaunts the foul-mouth'd Saxon breath'd on air;

His country's love the youthful hero warms,

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And vengeance strung his almost wearied arms.
Upraised aloft, the light reflexive blade

Sings through the air, and cleaves the Saxon's head.

The broken skull, and shivered helmet, strew'd

The sandy plain, that reeks with human blood.

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He gasping falls, and shakes the thundering ground,

And, dying, toss'd his quivering limbs around.
Thus falls an oak, that long majestic stood

The tallest honours of the waving wood;
Deep hack'd by the shipwright's unerring hand,
Groans, slow inclines, and, falling, shakes the land.

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Death, undetermined, points to each his stings,] "The arrow came,

like the sting of death in a blast." Vol. I. p. 371. "It sends forth the dart of death." Vol. II. p. 45.

When on the field the Saxon lay supine,
The English tremble through each sable line.
Half-bending backward, much they wish to fly,
And terror sparkles from each troubled eye.
Confirmed with joy, the Scots advance the war;
To save their country is their only care:
Fair liberty each youthful bosom warms,
And in the jaws of death they seek her arms.

Now from the levelled tubes loud thunders roar,
And lightning flashed along the awful shore.
They fall, and pitchy smoke enwraps them round;
The bubbling blood floats on the fatal ground.
Shouts, dying groans, and noise of arms, invade
The dreaming portals of the startled head.

So, when contending blasts for empires strive, Through the Cerulean vault the clouds they drive, 'Till o'er some brow the gloomy shades engage,

And low'ring heaven trembles at their rage;

Red lightnings flash, and rough voiced thunders shake, 105
Earth bends her mountains, and her vallies quake.

Now raging 'midst the foe, terrific shines
The hill-born youth, and breaks the hostile lines.
Around him nought is heard but dying groans,
The crashing steel, and noise of fractured bones.
Where'er he towers, the foe betake to flight,
Or death enwraps them in eternal night.
Arms, half-lopt limbs, and gasping men up-piled,
O'erspread confusion on the dismal field.

Diminished now, the vanquished English fly,
Force, valour, conduct, could no aid supply.
Fierce on the rear the hill-born hero hangs,
Lops the slow tail, and every hero bangs.
Henry returns-Henry, whose haughty line
Descends from Edward-Edward, half divine,
Who knew stern Mars in all his frightful forms!
Proud Gallia trembles as the hero storms:

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Great in his blood, great in his manly mind,
The godlike Harry stately stood behind.
To cope with Donald is his only care,
And dam the deluge of the rushing war.`
The youthful hero stood in arms incased,
And thoughtful argued in his manly breast.
If carried on the headlong stream I fly,
I'll fall inglorious, unrevenged die:
Or, even if safety should reward my flight,
How many souls will be enwrapt in night!
The Scots would glory to see how Henty fled,
The blood of Edward, and the Saxon head.
The people perish when the chieftain flies—
No; Henry conquers, or revenged dies!
Thus rashly said, the hero, bold and young,
Swells in his arms, and stately strides along;
With easy steps, majestically slow,

To brave the headlong fury of the foe.

Thus of his youthful might the courser proud, Stems the rough current of the headlong flood; White his broad chest the bubbling liquid laves, Steadfast he moves amidst the raging waves.

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Towards youthful Henry Donald furious strode;

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He longs to revel in his English blood.

They meet, they fight, and rage each youth possessed;
Fierce vengeance fired, and anger gnawed each breast.
Intent to conquer, both to fly forgot;
Each for his life, and both for glory fought.
Death, empty bugbear! could no longer fright,
Or ought restrain the youthful hand from fight.
Now Henry silver skin with wounds inlaced,
And crimson flood-gates in his manly breast:
Adown his limbs the purple torrent flows:
By slow degrees his arm more feeble grows;
He parries faintly, and he strives with pain;
Then falls, o'erwhelmed, and shakes the dusty plain.

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