THE AMERICAN DEER. 233 



That is an aspiration which all men, who have tasted 

 of the freshness, the originality, the primitive elastic 

 vigor of the woodland life, imtrammeled by no formulas, 

 fettered by no false and absurd conventionalities, a life 

 emphatically of men, desire to taste again yearn after 

 it, how eagerly, when debarred from it by the hateful 

 necessities of business and, when they return to it, 

 after years of desuetude, greet it as old men would greet 

 renewed manhood, or exiles restored home. This is the 

 feeling which is so instinct of life, and sunshine, and 

 breezy freshness in the writings of the earlier and more 

 original of England's poets which prompted one great 

 [Roman to cry mournfully, " rus, rus, quando ego te 

 aspiciam" and another to admit half apologetically, as 

 if it were in some sort a reproach, " Flumina amem et 

 eylvas mutosqiie inglorius ainnes y" and in all breasts a 

 something of this hunter's spirit, under one form or 

 other will burst perennial, until we go whither the weary 

 are at rest, and the wicked cease from troubling. And 

 a good spirit it is, in moderation, and good to be 

 indulged and so up with the forest chaunt. 



So it is yet let us sing 

 Honor to the old bowstring ! 

 Honor to the bugle horn ! 

 Honor to the woods unshorn ! 

 Honor to the Lincoln green ! 

 Honor to the woodman keen ! 



