The Riderless Horse

The night was a stream of cold, the wind did howl, and none beheld the sight

Of shadows, dark and horrid, storming loudly through the night.

The shadows flew, high and fast, above both house and fields lit dimly,

As the Wild hunt came riding -

Riding—riding—

As the Wild hunt came riding, both terrible and grimly.

The riders wore shadows on their backs, with hoods both black and deep,

Armour scuffed and faded, with eyes caused skin to creep.

As they flew through the clouds, with nary th’ sound of a sigh,

As the wild hunt went charging,

Grim and silent charging,

As the hunters all came charging, beneath the torrid tempest sky.

Over the town terrible hooves and pointed claws tore across the sky,

And red eyes peered in windows, blood-red and sly,

for any sign of those not sleeping, but none did stir

Inside the shuttered houses,

The snow-topped unlit houses,

The quiet, silent houses, and so they passed on in a stygian blur.

So none did see a dark horse as its rapid gait did slow,

As the terrible beast stopped in the square of Exeter, its dark coat flecked with snow.

Its eyes were red and shining, its coat made of shadow and shade,

But the horse had lost its rider,

Its dark and silent rider,

The rider that it loved, who far behind in snow began to fade

The horse peered around the dark town on the dark and stormy night,

As the snow swirled up around it, sparkling and white;

Yet, it did not stir as the hunt began to climb,

Shadowed sharply by the moonlight,

Beneath the depth of moonlight,

As the hunt rode towards the moonlight, leaving the coal-black horse behind.

It rose and shook off the cold-clinging snow with a shiver

But none did hear the horse as trotted 'long the frozen river

This terrible and magnificent shadow-coated beast;

As it moved shadowed by the moonlight,

(Oh, the cold and cool moonlight!)

As it moved swiftly by moonlight, and flew away 'towards the east.

The horse paced the countryside in darkness, by the dim light of the moon,

As it came upon a town, its hooves on stones rough-hewn,

When the clouds kept guard above the silent moors,

The shadow horse came walking —

Walking—Walking—

The mount-less horse came walking, up to an unlit door.

It did not make a sound, but placed its eye near the keyhole instead.

But none did see the beast, for all were deep asleep in bed.

The lanterns flickered above the beast, as it turned away

To look into the windows,

through every shuddered window;

For the horse did seek his rider in this town, sleeping and grey.

But its feet did leave marks, curved and strange, in the snow.

As it searched around the houses, determined and slow.

With a sigh it moved on, to the abandoned path of the hunt

shadowed sharply by the moonlight,

Beneath the depth of moonlight,

Where the hunt had ran through moonlight, leaving the coal-black horse behind.

It moved on to the next house, but lo, the doors held tight

It pawed and snorted at next, in the silence of the night

It followed a hidden trail by darkness, and the hours crawled like years

Till, at the stroke of midnight,

quiet at the stroke of midnight,

The horse gave out a fearsome cry, for a noise had reached its pointed ears!

It stood still as a statue, yearning to hear the sound once more.

It quickly stood to attention, as it turned away from the door.

It would not risk missing that elusive sound again;

For the town lay cloaked in the darkness;

Cold and eager in the darkness;

And the heart in its chest beat rapidly, to some secret shadow refrain.

Stamp-stamp; stamp-stamp! Had the beast heard the sound? The pad of boots in snow so clear;

stamp-stamp; stamp-stamp, in the distance? Footprints coming near?

And far over the moors, in the depth of the snow,

The riderless horse went running—

Running—running—

Its gait desperate and stunning! The shadow-horse flew fast and free.

Stamp-stamp, in the gloomy silence! The hiss of hooves, in the snow-covered night!

Nearer and nearer the horse ran, Its eyes a gleaming blood red.

As it looked for the sign of its rider; It ran ever swift,

Then a black form lit by moonlight,

on a distant hill by moonlight,

stood a dark shadow, which one hand did lift.

The horse ran towards it, swift as a bird,

And their joyful reunited cry no soul ever heard

As the rider and loyal horse were together once more

Under mysterious blanket of darkness,

the ever-stretching darkness,

were happily reunited in darkness, on a dim snow-covered moor.

Then, the rider did mount, as they both let out a victory roar 'towards sky,

With the silent towns dark behind them and a longsword wielded high.

Blood red were the horse’s eyes; coal-black the rider’s cape;

When they charged into the sky,

A mad tempest of darkness to the sky,

And they left the ground to meet the sky, and to join the hunt again.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

And still on a February night, they say, when snow lies on the moor,

And when a desperate wind comes to whip 'round the doors,

The Wild Hunt comes riding above both house and fields lit dimly,

The Wild hunt comes riding -

Riding—riding—

The Wild hunt comes riding, both terrible and grimly.

Over the streets and fields they come, when the night is deep and cold

And sometime leave the hoofmarks seen by both young and old,

Made by the feet of the once riderless horse,

Now carrying a rider,

A dark-armoured silent rider,

Who rides near the head of the hunt.

(Written in the style of Alfred Noyes’s poem, The Highwayman. Inspired by the Devil’s Footprints phenomenon in Devon, England, 1855, and the myth of the Wild Hunt)