THE RUFFED GROUSE. 157 



Of desires immortal, of undying faith, 



And an untiring hope that abideth to death ! 



Oh ! bard of the forest, who can thee disdain, 



While Nature thou speak'st in thy wild, gushing strain ? 

 Love 1 oh, thou mystic, unquenchable flame, 

 Though constantly changing, yet ever the same ! 



Life's creative word ! Nature's e'erbeating heart ! 



Ah ! the highest of rapture and pain thou art 

 On earth as in heaven Sing happy and free, 

 No art in thy measures can imitate thee ! 



But— all of a sudden the singer's notes grow 



Agitating and wild— he's encountered a foe ! 

 And this rival he threatens to deadly assail ; 

 He must drive him away over hillock and dale. 



And who can his violent wrath put to rest ? 



For of war-song and battle now heaveth his breast ! 

 Same battle's to be fought, as at Troja of old, 

 As an Iliad of the forest now here might be told. 



«' Menelaus shall fight against Paris— a bride 

 Is the prize to contend for— the crowd draws aside- 

 Fair Helena is seated, though not on the wall. 

 But high from a fir-tree, majestic and tall, 

 Looks down on the fight— for a mate she must seek, 

 Howe'er the battle may turn, between Trojan and Greek. 

 With deafening war-cries ascending the sky. 

 Now, breast against breast, and with fire-flashing eye, 

 The warriors meet, and, with thundering might, 

 Their death-dealing weapons employ in the fight. 

 Fierce rageth the combat, and reeking in blood 

 It spreads consternation and dread through the wood. 

 Yet the contest is short, and the battle doth cease, 

 When, dismayed, overpowered, Paris he flees. 

 But ah ! a Pandarus bends treacherous bow, 

 And the loud, boasting Achean victor lieth low ! 



" Now victorious shouts through the forest resound ; 



With many accounts of brave deeds they abound ! 

 And the fair and the loved one is hailed with rejoice, 

 Though stiU there is wrath in the brave singer's voice. 



But it cannot abide in a fond lover's breast. 



And soon, by degrees, it is soothed to rest ; 

 And in softened cadences floweth the lay 

 Till, in taint uttered sighs, it is melting away." 



Change the word ''singer" in this poem to "drum- 

 mer," and it portrays the wooing of the ruted grouse in 



