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My feasted hounds are slumbering round beside the
watercourse, And plenty of sweet prairie-grass for thee, my noble
Hist! hist! I heard some prowler snarling in the
wood; I seized my knife and trusty gun, and face to face we
stood ! The Grizzly Bear came rushing on,-and, as he
rush'd, he fell! Hie at him, dogs! my rifle has done its duty well!
Hie at him, dogs! one bullet cannot kill a foe so
grim ; The God of battles nerve a man to grapple now with
him,And straight between his hugging arms I plunge my
whetted knife, Ha-ha! it splits his iron heart, and drinks the ruddy
Frantic struggles-welling blood -- the strife is al
most o’er,The shaggy monster, feebly panting, wallows in his
Here, lap it hot, my gallant hounds,—the blood of
foes is sweet; Here, gild withal your dewlapp'd throats, and wash
your brawny feet!
So, shall we beard those tyrants in their dens another
day, Nor tamely wait, with slavish fear, their coming in
the way ;
And pleasant thoughts of peace and home shall fill
our dreams to-night, For lo, the God of battles has help'd us in the fight !
THE SONG OF SIXTEEN.
be ? Who can tell
fortune to me? For, bravest and brightest that ever was sung May be—and shall be—the lot of the young !
Hope, with her prizes and victories won,
All my meadows and hills are green,
My heart, my heart within me swells,
Rich in the present, though poor in the past,
Pleasures are there, like dropping balms,
Away with your counsels, and hinder me not,-
Ah, poor youth! in pitiful truth,
Haply, within a few swift years,
Haply, to follies an early wreck,-
Lower the sails of pride, rash youth,-
Care and peril in lieu of joy,
Cheated by pleasure, and sated with pain,-
- It is well. I discern a tear on thy cheek : It is well,—thou art humbled, and silent, and meek : Now,-courage again ! and, with peril to cope, Gird thee with vigour, and helm thee with hope !
For life, good youth, hath never an ill