and asks for his mount on that marvellous morning.

All those grooms engaged to go with their lord

were high on their horses before the hall gates.

The fields were dazzling, fixed with frost,

and the crown of sunrise rose scarlet and crimson,

scalding and scattering cloud from the sky.

At the fringe of the forest the dogs were set free

and the rumpus of the horns went ringing through the rocks.

They fall on the scent of a fox, and follow,

turning and twisting as they sniff out the trail. 1700

A young harrier yowls and a huntsman yells,

then the pack come rushing to pick up the reek,

running as a rabble along the right track.

The fox scurries ahead, they scamper behind,

and pursue him at speed when he comes within sight,

haranguing him with horrific ranting howls.

Now and then he doubles back through thorny thickets,

or halts and hearkens in the hem of a hedge,

until finally, by a hollow, he hurdles a fence,

and carefully he creeps by the edge of a copse, 1710

convinced that his cunning has conned those canines!

But unawares he wanders where they lie in wait,

where greyhounds are gathered together, a group

of three.

He springs back with a start,

then twists and turns and flees.

With heavy, heaving heart

he tracks towards the trees.

Such earthly elation, hearing those hounds

as they massed to meet him, marauding together, 1720

and they bayed bloodily at the sight of his being,

as if clustering cliffs had crashed to the ground.

Here he was ambushed by bushwhacking huntsmen

waiting with a welcome of wounding words;

there he was threatened and branded a thief,

and always the hounds allowed him no ease.

Often, in the open, the pack tried to pounce,

then that crafty Reynard would creep into cover.

So his lordship and his lords were merrily led

in this manner through the mountains until mid-afternoon, 1730

while our handsome hero snoozed contentedly at home,

kept from the cold of the morning by curtains.

But love would not let her ladyship sleep

and the fervour she felt in her heart would not fade.

She rose from her rest and rushed to his room

in a flowing robe that reached to the floor

and was finished inside with fine-trimmed furs.

Her head went unhooded, but heavenly gems

were entwined in her tresses in clusters of twenty.

She wore nothing on her face; her neck was naked, 1740

and her shoulders were bare to both back and breast.

She comes into his quarters and closes the door,

makes her way to the window and throws it open,

then sweet and swift is the speech she intends for

his ear.

‘Oh, sir, how can you sleep

when morning comes so clear?’

And though his dreams are deep

he cannot help but hear.

Yes, he dozes in a daze, dreams and mutters 1750

like a mournful man with his mind on dark matters –

how destiny might deal him a death-blow on the day