And he chased her then by rock and by river,
He chased her long by meadow and by hill:
Thrice she took him through the gardens of his castle,
But she vanished ere his spear had had its will.
And so home, foiled and furious, rode Red Richard;
He flung himself all weary in his chair,
And beside him came the white little maiden,
Saying, “Cousin, was your hunting very fair?”
Then he laughed. “But to-morrow I shall win her,
Though she go where no foot has ever been.
To your feet will I bring her, pretty cousin;
Oh, such hunting as mine was never seen!”
Up at dawn, glad and eager, rose Red Richard;
The quickest steed in all the land had he,
And he rode to the magic woods of Toonagh—
There the white doe was grazing peacefully.
And then upon the tender moss behind her,
So softly and so swiftly did he ride,
Then she bounded but a pace from her resting
Ere his hot spear was red within her side.
And he tracked her through the mist and through shadow,
He followed the wet crimson on his way;
And he vowed he would have her dead or living,
Or follow her until the Judgment Day.
All red was the pathway to his castle,
And all eager and full fierce was his quest,
Till he came upon the corpse of his cousin—
With his sharp spear deep buried in her breast.
••••••
So it is that the magic woods of Toonagh
Are haunted by the spirit of a deer:
She wanders by the castle of Red Richard—
Within her side the wounding of a spear.
