Beside the landsman knelt a dame,
And slowly pushed the pages o'er;
Still by the hearthfire's spending flame
She waited, while a hollow roar
Came from the chimney, and the breath
Of twice seven hounds upon the floor;
And save the old man's labored moan,
The night had no sound more.
The fire flickered; with a start
The master hound upflung his head;
Sudden he whined, when with one spring
Each hunter bounded from his bed,--
And through rent blind and bolted door
All voiceless every creature fled;
The blinking watcher closed her book:
"Amen, our lord is dead!"
