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THE HORN, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: I love through the deep woods, at close of day
Last Line: O god! How wails the horn through forest glade!


I LOVE through the deep woods, at close of day,
To hear the horn sounding the stag at bay,
Or hunter's farewell note which echo wakes,
And the north wind through all the forest takes.

How oft have I a midnight vigil kept,
And smiled to hear it, but more often wept!
It seemed the sound prophetic, which of old
Th' approaching death of Paladins foretold.

O azure mountains, land which I adore,
Rocks of Frazona, summits of Marbore,
Cascades and torrents, urged by weights of snow,
Streams sprung from Pyrenean heights that flow,

Mounts both of frosts and flowers, where seasons meet,
Your brows of ice, of blooming meads your feet--
'Tis there one ought to sit, and listen there
To the horn's distant melancholy blare.

The traveller oft, when all around is still,
Loves with its brazen voice the night to fill;
While mingled with the cadence, all around,
Th' harmonious bleatings of the flocks resound.

The doe attentive does not care to hide,
But hangs unmoved on the rocks' craggy side;
The cascade joins (dashed from the heights along)
Its ceaseless plaint to the romantic song.

Souls of the warriors, are ye hither borne?
Is it your voice that mingles with the horn?
'Ronceval' echoes through the dismal vale!
Can grief great Roland's spirit still assail?

Not one has fled; the heroes all had died;
He, only left, and Oliver beside.
Afric stands round, but dares not venture nigh;
The Moor shouts, 'Roland, yield, or thou shalt die!

'The Peers all sleep, strewed in the torrent bed.'
He, like a tiger roared, then fiercely said,
'Yield, African?'--'Yes, when the Pyrences
The torrent to the sea shall roll with these.'

'Then yield or die; for here they come. Behold!'
Down from the height a rock enormous rolled,
Bounding, into the chasm's depths it dashed.
The pincs upturned were in the torrent crashed.

'Thanks,' Roland said; 'by this you form a pass.'
Then pushing 'gainst the mountain's side the mass
He leapt thereon; his looks the foe defy,
Who, doubting, trembling, seemed about to fly.

Charlemagne, meanwhile, and all his host descend
The mountain, deeming dangers at an end.
And on th' horizon streaks of water show
Where Luz and Argelles through the valley flow.

The army cheered, the troubadour's gay song
Made glad the march, as tramped the troops along.
Vintage of France flowed bright in many a glass:
The soldier jested with the village lass.

'Twas Roland held the pass, thus safe their course.
Heedlessly seated on his sable horse,
Which ambled, clothed in housings purple dyed,
Turpin, who held the sacred vesscls, cried,

'Sire! through the sky are hurrying clouds of flame;
Bid the march halt; to tempt the Lord were blame.
Now, by St. Denis, souls of men they be,
Which through the air on fiery vapours flee.'

Two lightning flashes, then two more appear;
And then the horn's far-distant sound they hear.
Amazed, the Emperor the rein drew back,
And made his horse his rapid progress slack.

'Heard you that sound?'--''Tis but the shepherd's call,
Gathering his scattered flock e'er darkness fall,'
Said the Archbishop; 'or the voice, I ween,
Of Oberon talking with the Fairy Queen.'

The Emperor onward sped, but his sad brow,
Than cloud, or storm, is darker, blacker now.
He fears some treason, and thus plunged in thought,
Loud sounds the horn, then dies, by echo caught.

'Ah! 'tis my nephew, and if Roland cries
For help, alas! 'tis certain that he dies.
Back, knights; we cross the mountain once again;
Now tremble 'neath my feet, thou treacherous Spain.'

The horses halt upon the mountain brow,
Foam-whitened; 'neath their feet is Roncevaux.
By day's last dying flame, scarce coloured o'er,
The far horizon shows the flying Moor.

'Seest thou aught, Turpin?'--'In the torrent bed
I see two knights, one dying, and one dead.
Both crushed 'neath a black rock's vast fragments lie.
The strongest holds a horn of ivory:
His soul's outbreathing calls us twice for aid.'

O God! how wails the horn through forest glade!





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