HUNTING SONGS 



XII 



Slowly that horse from the river's bed. 



Still back'd by his rider, uprais'd his head ; 



But the nostrils' faint breath and the terror-glaz'd eye 



Tell how vain is all hope with its fury to vie. 



XIII 



Unappall'd, who could gaze on the heart-rending 



sight ? 

 His rider unmov'd, in the saddle upright, 

 Calm for one moment, and then the death scream 

 As down, still unseated, he sank in the stream ! 



XIV 



Slingsby meanwhile from the waters uprose. 

 Where deepest and strongest the mid-current flows ; 

 Manfully stemming its onward course. 

 He struck for the boat with his failing force. 



XV 



Then feebly one arm was uplifted, in vain 

 Striving to snatch at the chestnut's mane ; 

 For that faithful steed, through the rolling tide, 

 Had swum like a dog to his master's side. 



XVI 



At length by the stream he can buffet no more. 

 Borne, bleeding and pale, to the farther shore. 

 There, as the Slingsbys had oft-times lain. 

 Lay the last of that House in his harness slain ! 



138 



