Hunting the Stag 129 



The Chase Begins ^:> ^:> ^o 



NEWLY risen from his couch of fern, the 

 noble hart would rush at full speed through 

 the most intricate parts of the forest, threading leafy- 

 mazes only known to himself, dashing through the 

 yielding hazels, which would close again with a 

 spring that would fell a stout stripling to the earth, 

 now pausing for a brief moment with his antlered 

 head erect to listen to his pursuers ; then, finding 

 their loud whoop and halloo drawing nearer, hurry- 

 ing off again with redoubled speed. Now he would 

 gallop along by the wild forest brook at which he 

 had so many times quenched his thirst ; but, though 

 his hot ton2;ue hun2;out of his mouth, not daring to 

 pause an instant to drink, nor look down either at 

 the blue sky, the broad branches, or the beautiful 

 flowers mirrored in the stream, and which his own 

 image for a moment darkened, as he swept along. 



Thomas Miller. 



The Chase Ends ^^^^ ^o o 



BEHOLD him now ! The chase has continued 

 for two long hours ; his mouth is black and 

 dry, his tongue hangs out, his eyes turned backward, 

 as if measuring the space that intervenes between 

 him and his pursuers. How heavily he seems to 

 drag his weary limbs along ! You see he is longer 

 passing over the shadow of a tree and into the break 

 of sunshine beyond, than he was when he first 

 sprang from his ferny couch, and no wonder, for he 

 has run over many miles of weary forest-ground. 

 The hounds draw nearer ; there are but three or 

 four couples ; all the rest have fallen off; some are 

 lost in the forest mazes ; only two or three horse- 



K 



