Of battle on the blast;
Her voice the forest pines hath stirr’d,
As if a storm went past;
Her thousand hills the call have heard,
And forth their fire-flags cast.
Arm, arm, free hunters! for the chase,
The kingly chase of foes!
’Tis not the bear or wild wolf’s race
Whose trampling shakes the snows:
Arm, arm! ’tis on a nobler trace