144 The Chase 



Keeldar was matchless in his speed, 

 Than Tarras, ne'er was stancher steed, 

 A peerless archer, Percy Rede ; 

 And right dear friends were they. 



The chase engrossed their joys and woes, 

 Together at the dawn they rose. 

 Together shared the noon's repose. 



By fountain or by stream ; 

 And oft, when evening skies were red. 

 The heather was their common bed. 

 Where each as wildering fancy led. 



Still hunted in his dream. 



Sir Walter Scott. 



Simon Lee ^:^ ^:> ^^^ 



The Old Huntsman 



IN the sweet shire of Cardigan, 

 Not far from pleasant Ivor-Hall, 

 An old man dwells, a little man, — 



'Tis said he once was tall. 

 Full five-and-thirty years he lived 



A running huntsman merry ; 

 And still the centre of his cheek 

 Is red as a ripe cherry. 



No man like him the horn could sound, 



And hill and valley rang with glee 

 When Echo bandied, round and round. 



The halloo of Simon Lee. 

 In those proud days, belittle cared 



For husbandry or tillage ; 

 To blither tasks did Simon rouse 



The sleepers of the village. 



