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BIG GA.ME OF NORTH AMERICA. 



Oft have I listened to the sound 

 Thy tongue rang echoing around, 

 While on before, with startled bound, 



The antlered monarch fled; 

 O! by St. Hubert! 'twas a yell. 

 Once heard, would be remembered well; 

 Its loud and glorious trumpet-swell 



Would almost wake the dead! 



Fierce as a Tiger on the run, 



Tet gentle when the chase was done; 



And sure as bolt from rifled gun. 



Alas! that thou art gone! 

 Faithful beyond e'en human faith, 

 Sad was the accidental scath 

 Which hurried thee to timeless death—* 



Of hounds the peerless one! 



Brave Venus! who will say 'tis wrong 

 For thee to siDg a funeral song, 

 Or censure sorrow, keen and strong, 



Fdr noble beast like thee? 

 I would that every earthly friend 

 May prove as constant to the end; 

 For even a dog a charm can lend 



To proud humanity! 



