II.
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s Chief, who hears his warder call,'To arms! the foemen storm the wall,'The antlered monarch of the wasteSprung from his heathery couch in haste.But ere his fleet career he took,The dew-drops from his flanks he shook;Like crested leader proud and highTossed his beamed frontlet to the sky;A moment gazed adown the dale,A moment snuffed the tainted gale,A moment listened to the cry,That thickened as the chase drew nigh;Then, as the headmost foes appeared,With one brave bound the copse he cleared,And, stretching forward free and far,Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var.
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