Page:The Forest Sanctuary.pdf/166

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!