Steeds are neighing, gallants glittering.
Gay, her smiling lord to greet,
From her mullioned chamber-casement
Smiles the Duchess Marguerite.
From Vienna, by the Danube,
Here she came, a bride, in spring.
Now the autumn crisps the forest;
Hunters gather, bugles ring.
Hounds are pulling, prickers swearing,
Horses fret, and boar-spears glance.
Off!—They sweep the marshy forests,
Westward on the side of France.
Hark! the game's on foot; they scatter!
Down the forest-ridings lone,
Furious, single horsemen gallop.
Hark! a shout—a crash—a groan!
Pale and breathless, came the hunters—
On the turf dead lies the boar.
God! the duke lies stretched beside him,
Senseless, weltering in his gore.
In the dull October evening,
Down the leaf-strewn forest-road,
To the castle, past the drawbridge,
Came the hunters with their load.
In the hall, with sconces blazing,
Ladies waiting round her seat,
Clothed in smiles, beneath the daïs
Sate the Duchess Marguerite.
