Hunting the Stag 117 



The Haunt of the Deer ^o <::> 



I 



HAVE seen Beauty walking in the green 

 woodland, 



In the early Spring when the trees are all aflame, 

 And o'er the hills and the lonely purple moorland, 

 Birds are calling in the dusk, and delight is felt half 



pain. 



I have seen the shy wild-deer threading through the 

 forest. 



Flitting through dim glen and through faery wood- 

 land glade, 



Seen through latticed branches in the purple gleam- 

 ing west, 



Sunset in its crimson splendour, joy that cannot 

 fade. 



Samuel J. Looker. 



Old Towler <:> y:^ ^^^ <:> 



BRIGHT Chanticleer proclaims the dawn 

 And spangles deck the thorn. 

 The lowing herds now quit the lawn. 



The lark springs from the corn ; 

 Dogs, huntsmen, round the window throng. 



Fleet Towler leads the cry. 

 Arise the burden of my song. 

 This day a stag must die. 



Chorus, 



With a hey, ho, chevy ! 



Hark forward, hark forward, tantivy ! 



Hark ! hark ! tantivy ! 



This day a stag must die. 



