"The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set, 590
Ever sing merrily, merrily;
The bows they bend, and the knives they whet,
Hunters live so cheerily.
"It was a stag, a stag of ten,
Bearing its branches sturdily; 595
He came stately down the glen,
Ever sing hardily, hardily.
"It was there he met with a wounded doe,
She was bleeding deathfully;
She warned him of the toils below, 600
Oh, so faithfully, faithfully!
"He had an eye, and he could heed,
Ever sing warily, warily;
He had a foot, and he could speed--
Hunters watch so narrowly." 605