44 BISHOP 



The victor's song 

 Hounds now : he will not triuiiijili lmi{. 



He boasts of deeds of glory dour 



For his dear love, while in the tone 



The songster's rage is still expressed : 



But, in his loving breast, 



Uiige cannot hist : 



Already is it past. 



I lurk ! hw the melody outpouring 



Seems to decay, 



And melts away, 



Sweetly for love imploring ; 



And, in complaining longing sighs, 



Softly dies. 



Hunter ! be quick, observe the tone; 



Steal along, 



While swells the song, 



, Sight and hearing then are gone : 



But, when he holds his warbling breath, 



Crouch down, as low, as still as death. 



Heed not that the swamp is deep, 



Through the marshes you must creep ; 



If the victor you would win, 



Get your rifle's range within. 



Fire! 



Hushed is the song, dispersed the choir, 

 And in the warbler's heart the lead. 



But he died without a Jiang, 



Fondest loved, and sweetest sun:.', 



Happy den.l ! 



Many Capercali are also shot during the autumn to 

 the Stand- lliunl, or pointer, in the midland mid southern 

 parts of Scandinavia, and in \\hat we in England should 

 call a sportsmanlike manner. In the far north that 

 description of d>ir is hardly known, even by name. 



