She paused,—then, blushing, led the lay,
To grace the stranger of the day.
Her mellow notes awhile prolong
The cadence of the flowing song,
Till to her lips in measured frame
The minstrel verse spontaneous came.
Song Continued.
’Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done;
While our slumbrous
spells assail ye,
Dream not, with the rising sun,
Bugles here shall sound
reveille.
Sleep! the deer is in his den;
Sleep! thy hounds are
by thee lying;
Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen
How thy gallant steed lay dying.
Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done;
Think not of the rising sun,
For at dawning to assail ye
Here no bugles sound reveille.’
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