THE SPECTRE STAG 



XV 



" Ye curs ! " he cried, " why stir ye not ? 



A curse upon the breed ! 

 And you, ye loitering varlets, 



Where are ye in such need ? " 



XVI 



To summon then his followers, 

 He grasp'd his hunting-horn, 



Through the forest's deep recesses 

 The echoing blast was borne. 



XVII 



But borne in vain — his retinue 



No note in answer gave ; 

 And the silence that succeeded 



Was the silence of the grave. 



XVIII 



His eye in terror glancing 



From glade to distant crag, 

 Nought saw he save the spectre 



Goading on that grisly stag. 



XIX 



The nearer it approach'd him. 



The larger still it grew ; 

 Again he seiz'd his hunting-horn. 



And his gasping breath he drew. 



D 25 



