Great velvet-vestured nobles, cloaked and plumed, To hunt Thuringian deer. Then morn,--too quick To bid good-morrow,--was too slow for these, And on the wind-trod hills recumbent yawned Disturbed an hour too soon; all sleepy-eyed, Like some young milkmaid whom the cock hath roused, Who sits and rubs stiff eyes that still will close. Horns sang and deer-hounds tugged a whimpering leash, Or, loosened, bounded through the baying glens: And ere the mountain mists, compact of white, Broke wild before the azure spears of day, The far-off hunt, that woke the woods to life, Seemed but the heart-beat of the ancient hills. And then, near noon, within a forest brake, The ban-dogs roused a red gigantic stag, Lashed to whose back with gnarly-knotted cords, And borne along like some pale parasite, A man shrieked: tangle-bearded, and wild hair A mane of forest-burs. The man himself, Emaciated and half-naked from The stag's mad flight through headlong rocks and trees, One bleeding bruise, with eyes like holes of fire. For such the law then: when the peasant chased Or slew the dun deer of his tyrant lords, If seized, as punishment the withes and spine Of some strong stag, a gift to him of game, Enough till death--death in the antlered herd, Or slow starvation in the haggard hills. Then was the great Duke glad, and forthwith cried To all his hunting train a rich reward For him who slew the stag and saved the man, But death for him who slew both man and stag. So plunged the hunt after the hurrying slot, A shout and glimmer through the sounding woods,-- Like some mad torrent that the hills have loosed With death for goal.--'T was late; and none had risked That shot as yet,--too desperate the risk Beside the poor life and a little gold,-- When this young Kuno, with fierce eyes, wherein Hunt and impatience kindled reckless flame, Cried, "Has the dew then made our powder wet? Or have we left our marksmanship at home? Here's for its heart! the Fiend direct my ball!"-- And fired into a covert deeply packed, An intertangled wall of matted night, Wherein the eye might vainly strive and strive To pierce one fathom, earn one foot beyond. But, ha! the huge stag staggered from the brake Hit full i' the heart. And that wan wretch, unbound, Was ta'en and cared for. Then his grace, the Duke, Charmed with the eagle aim, called Kuno up, And there to him and his forever gave The forestkeepership. But envious tongues Were soon at wag; and whispered went the tale Of how the shot was free, and how the balls Used by young Kuno were free bullets--which To say is: Lead by magic moulded, in The influence and directed, of the Fiend. Of some effect these tales, and had some force Even with the Duke, who lent an ear so far As to ordain Kuno's descendants all