halfamoon | Original: The Wild Hunt (Ballad) by Just Ruth

The Wild Hunt by Just Ruth

A drumming, drumming, drumming shakes the dew-wet ground
Is it merely distant thunder that makes a hoof beat sound?
What's the racing shadow that seems to chase the moon?
Is it merely wind roiled clouds or mortals caught in terrible doom?
They slam their doors and cross themselves in the hollows of the vale,
And to the curious traveler they tell a fearsome tale. . .

His eyes were blue, his hair was long, his face handsomely, dangerously Fey,
Wearing a herald's livery, he rode in at the break of day,
But tho' the Princess came to hand the welcoming wine,
Twas her brother he'd come to see, and his mouth set in hardened line.
The Princess spoke to him with soft words, seeking to turn his anger aside
"Where's the Prince?" demanded he, "Have I wasted a long night's ride?"

"Pardon, my lord, pardon," she said, "my brother rose early to ride,
The stags have newly shed their velvet, he'll hunt 'till near noontide."
"Oh, hunting is it?," says the herald, "Then hunting will prove his bane,
Hear me now, remember your Prince well, /for you'll ne'er see him again/!"
Now cried the Princess for her guards, they strove to catch the fey,
But the elvish devil laughed and dodged and like lightning rode away.

Back from the woods at noon staggered a weary man, his face sad and pale
With limping, lamed horse behind, he spun the sorry tale
The Prince and his huntsmen coursed the wood when there sprang into sight
A massive stag with golden horns and pelt of snowy white
Like moonlight on snow he glistened, and he dared them with his eyes
The Prince in delight cried out "Now here's a royal prize!"

After the stag the hunt ran, but his beast staggered and went lame
The hunt ran into sun-greyed mists - and never came out again!
Now all who heard this well remembered the fairy herald's curse,
Twas bad she'd lost her brother, but for the lady, it seemed worse
For the Prince's chief hunter was he whom princess had given her heart
She must, she would set him free, but where o where would she start?

Now at night, the woods rang with the sound of hooves and hounds and horn
Of men riding and riding, chasing a milk-white stag ceaseless until the morn
Their eyes are wild, their faces set with grief and pain and fear
Caught between life and death are they, doomed to ride year after year
Many's the witch the Princess spoke to, to tramp and bard and gypsy
But none of them knew how to break the curse or set a captive free.

Now, after all her striving, the Princess was sunk in deep despair
When a stranger came a-selling a strange and beautiful mare
He was tall and he was thin, with hair hanging over one eye,
He boasted that his chestnut steed "could do everything except fly."
Her legs were long, her nose was white, her tail was carried high
The Princess bought her and had her saddled, her one last hope to try.

As the sound of the cursed hunt rang through the lonely night,
The Princess clapped her knees to the mare and rode after the sight
Now the hunters are the ones that are chased and slowly she draws near
She's almost within sight of the man that she holds dear,
But the mare is panting hard, from her mouth a bloody spume,
She stops and only staggers; no salvation from this doom!

Another year passes by, another year of sorrow and despair
When another stranger comes a-selling to the spring horse fair
His eyes and hair proclaim him a stranger from far-off Chin
He has a sturdy gelding, "there's none can outstay him!"
The gelding's a dirty, yellow dun, with wicked eye and tangled mane
Yet the Princess comes and says she'll pay any price that he might name.

As the sound of the cursed hunt rings through the lonely night,
The Princess clapped her knees to the dun and rides after the sight
Now the hunters are the ones that are chased and slowly she draws near
She's almost within an arm's length of the man that she holds dear,
She cries his name and sees him start and pause and turn his head,
Then end over end she tumbles as the dun in mid-stride drops dead!

Her councilors bid her wed, they speak of her duty to have an heir
She paces her castle's moonlit walls, her heart too sore to bear
She manages to put them off, she begs them for time to morn
And weeps in her pillow every night as she hears the phantom horn
She manages to put them off, until the spring horse fair
And hope against hope, she goes to see the stranger that's come there.

His eyes were blue, his hair was gold, his face handsomely, dangerously Fey,
And yet his face was the kindest she'd ever seen since that terrible, fateful day
He paraded before the crowd a sight both strange and rare
All swore they'd never seen the like of the tiny snow-white mare
Her hooves were the color of pearl and cloven like a deer
They rang on the cold cobblestones, like a bell sounding to ear

"She's sister to the unicorn, she's swift as the wind o'er the sea,"
"She could catch the moonlight if she tried," so boasted he,
"How much, how much to buy her? What price? Tell me do!"
"Lady," he says quietly, "I've come to give her only to you."
"The choice is yours, dear Lady, but beware where you ride,
For that which you seek to free might sweep you up inside."

"If you've ever loved," said the princess, "then you know I fear not hell nor death
I'll never stop loving him or trying to set him free, even if it takes my very breath"
"Then take her with my blessing, princess, I freely give both to you,
May love grant you the courage to do what you must do."
She took the silver bridle and turned to speak her thanks and praise,
But the lad was gone, vanished with his parting phrase.

Now at night, the woods rang with the sound of hooves and hounds and horn
Of men riding and riding, chasing a milk-white stag ceaseless until the morn
The white mare runs like a flash of light and the princess draws to his side
She reaches out to grab his hand, to stop his fearsome ride,
"Go!" he cries, "leave me! I won't have you dammed too!"
"Better to be dammed, my love, than to keep living without you!"

The white mare neighs like a mad elf's laugh as soon as the words are said
Spilling the princess from her back as the mare suddenly drops her head
But her grip on the huntsman's hand has yet remained quite fast
She's pulled him from his horse, they tumble down, free, free at last!
The hunt rounds the hilltop and vanishes in the mist
While the brave princess claims her prize with a victor's joyful kiss.

A drumming, drumming, drumming shakes the dew-wet ground
Is it merely distant thunder that makes a hoof beat sound?
What's the racing shadow that seems to chase the moon?
Is it merely wind roiled clouds or mortals caught in terrible doom?
They slam their doors and cross themselves in the hollows of the vale,
And to the curious traveler they tell a fearsome tale. . .

-fin-