330 SHIKAR SKETCHES. 



THE BOAR'S DEATH. 



Air * There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin.' 



I. 



There came to the stream a boar breathless and jaded, 

 The gore from his deep wounds empurpled the mud, 

 From his tusks dropped the foam as he, staggering, 



waded, 



To strengthen his fast- failing limbs in the flood; 

 But the hunters' cry reached him, now sinking, now 



swelling, 



As it came on the gale his death-hour foretelling, 

 While red from his ribs was the vital tide welling. 

 Loud cursing his rashness, thus murmured the boar : 



II. 



4 Oh, where is the fame, the distinction I tried for 1 

 Father, pig-prophet, thy warning was true, 

 And where art thou, dearest sow, that I sighed for ? 

 And where's my friend " Dooker," who sighed for her 



too? 



The hunter's wild shout will be my " ull-ulla " ; 

 They rode me from " Waree " down, down to this 



nullah, 



Reined up for no rasper, they came with a " hullah ;" 

 Oh ! little I dreamt what such devils could do. 



