The Haunting Spring

Gaily through the mountain glen
The hunter’s horn did ring,
As the milk-white doe
Escaped his bow,
Down by the haunted spring;
In vain his silver horn he wound,–
‘Twas echo answer’d back;
For neither groom nor baying hound
Was on the hunter’s track;
In vain he sought the milk-white doe
That made him stray, and ‘scaped his bow,
For, save himself, no living thing
Was by the silent haunted spring.

The purple heath-bells, blooming fair,
Their fragrance round did fling,
As the hunter lay,
At close of day,
Down by the haunted spring.
A lady fair, in robe of white,
To greet the hunter came;
She kiss’d a cup with jewels bright,
And pledg’d him by his name;
“Oh Lady fair,” the hunter cried,
“Be thou my love, my blooming bride,
A bride that well might grace a king!
Fair lady of the haunted spring.”

In the fountain clear, she stoop’d,
And forth she drew a ring;
And that bold knight
His faith did plight,
Down by the haunted spring.
But since the day his chase did stray,
The hunter ne’er was seen;
And legends tell, he now doth dwell
Within the hills so green.
But still the milk-white doe appears,
And wakes the peasant’s evening fears,
While distant bugles faintly ring
Around the lonely haunted spring.