The noble stag was pausing now Upon the mountain's southern brow, Where broad extended, far beneath, The varied realms of fair Menteith.[17] With anxious eye he wander'd o'er Mountain and meadow, moss and moor, And ponder'd refuge from his toil, By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. But nearer was the copsewood gray, That waved and wept on Loch Achray, And mingled with the pine trees blue On the bold cliffs of Benvenue. Fresh vigor with the hope return'd, With flying foot the heath he spurn'd, Held westward with unwearied race, And left behind the panting chase. [17] Or Monteith, a picturesque district of Scotland watered by the river Teith. VI. 'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er, As swept the hunt through Cambus-more;[18] What reins were tighten'd in despair, When rose Benledi's ridge in air; Who flagg'd upon Bochastle's heath, Who shunn'd to stem the flooded Teith,-- For twice that day, from shore to shore, The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. Few were the stragglers, following far, That reach'd the lake of Vennachar; And when the Brigg[19] of Turk was won, The headmost horseman rode alone. [18] An estate about two miles from Callander on the wooded banks of the Keltie. [19] Bridge. VII. Alone, but with unbated zeal, That horseman plied the scourge and steel;[20] For jaded now, and spent with toil, Emboss'd with foam, and dark with soil, While every gasp with sobs he drew, The laboring stag strain'd full in view. Two dogs of black St. Hubert's breed, Unmatch'd for courage, breath, and speed, Fast on his flying traces came, And all but won that desperate game; For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch, Vindictive toil'd the bloodhounds stanch, Nor nearer might the dogs attain, Nor farther might the quarry strain. Thus up the margin of the lake, Between the precipice and brake,[21] O'er stock[22] and rock their race they take. [20] Spur. [21] Thicket; underbrush. [22] The trunk of a tree. VIII. The Hunter mark'd that mountain[23] high, The lone lake's western boundary, And deem'd the stag must turn to bay,[24] Where that huge rampart barr'd the way; Already glorying in the prize, Measured his antlers with his eyes; For the death wound and death halloo, Muster'd his breath, his whinyard drew;-- But thundering as he came prepared, With ready arm and weapon bared, The wily quarry shunn'd the shock, And turn'd him from the opposing rock; Then, dashing down a darksome glen, Soon lost to hound and Hunter's ken, In the deep Trosachs'[25] wildest nook His solitary refuge took. There, while close couch'd, the thicket shed Cold dews and wild flowers on his head, He heard the baffled dogs in vain Rave through the hollow pass amain, Chiding the rocks that yell'd[26] again.