Then through the dell his horn resounds, From vain pursuit to call the hounds.
Back limped, with slow and crippled pace, The sulky leaders of the chase;Close to their master's side they pressed, With drooping tail and humbled crest;But still the dingle's hollow throat Prolonged the swelling bugle-note.
The owlets started from their dream, The eagles answered with their scream, Round and around the sounds were cast, Till echo seemed an answering blast;And on the Hunter tried his way, To join some comrades of the day, Yet often paused, so strange the road, So wondrous were the scenes it showed.
