Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Chase is o'er, the Hart is Slain

The Chase Is O'er, the Hart Is Slain.

The chase is o'er, the hart is slain,The stateliest hart that graced the plain;With breath of bugles wind his knell,Then lay him low in death's drear dell!

Nor beauteous form, nor dappled hide!Nor branching horns can long abide;Nor fleetest foot that scuds the heath;Escapes the fleeter huntsman—Death.

The hart is slain; his faithful deer,In spite of hounds or huntsman near,Despising Death and all his train,Laments her hart, untimely slain!

The chase is o'er, the hart is slain,The gentlest hart that graced the plain;Blow soft your bugles,—wind his knell,Then lay him low in Death's drear dell.