Now this is the wild baron's hunt;
And many a village youth,
And many a sportsman (dare they speak)
Could vouch the awful truth.
For oft benighted midst the wilds
The fiendish troop they hear,
Now shrieking shrill, now cursing loud,
Come thundering through the air.
No hand shall stay those dogs of hell
Or quench that sea of fire,
Till god's own dreadful day of doom
Shall bid the world expire!
Rambler's Mag., I-137, [1809], N. Y.
[G. A. Bürger, Der wilde Jäger.]
FOOTNOTES:
[33] Parody on Bürger's Earl Walter in Port Folio, III-44, Jan. 17, 1807. Cf. p. [165].
[34] I have not been able to discover what these volumes were. There is a short note in the German, which implies that they were entitled Dulder Soudth.