And in yon wither’d bracken’s lair, 
Slumbered the wolf and shaggy bear ; 
Once on that lone and trackless sod 
High chiefs and mail-clad warriors trod, 
And where the roe her bed has made, 
Their last bright arms the vanquish’d laid. 
The days of old have passed away 
Like leaves upon the torrent grey, 
And ail their dreams of joy and woe, 
As in yon eddy melts the snow ; 
And goon as far and dim behind, 
We too shall vanish on the wind. 
Lays of the Deer Forest. 
