A bullet flies toward us us—
"Is that for me or thee?"
It struck him, passing o'er me;
I see his corpse before me
As 'twere a part of me!
And still, while I am loading,
His outstretched hand I view;
"Not now—awhile we sever;
But, when we live forever,
Be still my comrade true!"
* * * * *
THE WHITE HART[25] (1811)
Three huntsmen forth to the greenwood went;
To hunt the white hart was their intent.
They laid them under a green fir-tree,
And a singular vision befell those three.
THE FIRST HUNTSMAN
I dreamt I arose and beat on the bush,
When forth came rushing the stag—hush, hush!
THE SECOND
As with baying of hound he came rushing along,
I fired my gun at his hide—bing, bang!