THE PENNSYLVANIA LION OR PANTHER. Gl 



Rose to a roar which echoed over all, 



Beside which wolves' lamenting to a treble fall; 



And through the snows your mate so slim draws nigh 



Noiselessly, with strange love-light in her eye 



You lick her coat, and stroke her with your tail, 



Whimpering a love-song weirdsome as the gale, 



Ycu leave her with a last long fond caress 



Adown the glen you go in stealthiness, 



. . . A loud report! another! how you leap; 



With a resounding thud into the snow you fall asleep. 



Your blood-stained hide the hunter bears away. 



The virile emblem of an ampler day. 



The golden eagle picks your carcass dry, 



Wild morning glories trellice on your ribs awry. 



Your meaning is a deep one — while your kind live men 



shall rule. 

 There will be let'3 of weakling, runt or fool. 

 No enervation will our rugged courage sap. 

 We will not dawdle on plump luxury's lap. 

 But as your race declines, so dwindles man. 

 The painted cheek replaces coat of tan. 

 And marble halls, and beds of cloth of gold 

 Succeed the log-cabins of the days of old; 

 When the last panther falls then woe betide. 

 Nature's retributive cataclysm is at our side. 

 Our boasted civilization then will be no more. 

 Fresh forms must come from out the Celestial Store. 



