Young Men Of That House

Young men of that established house,
I wind the horn whose echo did not fall
Upon your ear as something sounded in the past;
I sound it now; an angel bore it to you thence,
And that is why you have not known the rest
Germane to the crossed swords upon the breast
That seal a death to something stellified.
It made you restless and you heard the stamp of hoof;
You knew that had you time enough
You could have tamed that scarlet wolf.
And we all know of her who wrapped our upper arms
With favours of albescent cherry silk,
To whom we all wrote verses when we could not sleep.
I wind that horn again so that your blood might leap
Into the water-course of God Almighty’s purposes. 
You house of princes that have strained to learn the hawk,
Been trained in rhetoric and all the tricks of speech;
You knew when you had slain the hart that you had chased
Some unspeakable thing, and you had shot
Only its phantom, for the hunt
Goes on through woods trod by no mortal feet.
I wind the horn again, and if you sleep
Now is the hour to come awake;
This is an angel with a summons from the king.