WITH THE HOUNDS. 



Francis P. Ovvings. 



Up at streak of dawn, — from a startled sleep, 

 Our couches left with a springing leap, 

 And a bound that creaks the cabin floor, 

 While our pulses throb to the very core ; 

 The rifle is caught with a nervous grasp, 

 And fingers twitch in th' exciting task, 

 As the hunters meet in the breaking morn, 

 And our guides are sounding the hunter's horn. 



Quick as a flash, as the echoes rang 

 From the sombre shades, with a noisy clang 

 Of rustling feet, and the wildest bounds, 

 Came fawning up a pack of hounds, 

 With many a yelp and deep-mouthed bay, 

 Excited as we, for the hunting fray, 

 With frothing fangs and eyes intent, 

 And nostrils dilate for the promised scent. 



Away we go, through the thickest briars, 



As the last faint glimmer of night expires; 



O'er hill and dale and fallen logs, 



We follow the baying of the distant dogs ; 



Among tall pines whose tops are lost 



In the hazy mists of the melting frost, 



Through swamp and bog and tangled brush, 



Our pulses thrill and temples flush, 



For the deep cries of the hounds are near, 



When up there springs an antlered deer. 



He's off like a shot — a meteor's flash 

 Would be less quick than that sudden dash, 

 For the deepest vale and the wildest glade, 

 And the densest thicket that nature made. 

 One instant more, — 'twixt hope and fear, 

 We see his proud antlers, then disappear. 

 Loud through the forest rings the cry, 

 Of the hungry pack as they pass us by 

 On the freshened scent, their eyes aflame 

 And nostrils bent for the vanished game. 



Then back we turn, to the hunter's camp, 

 With a stride and swing for the pleasant tramp, 

 Through rustling leaves neath the shady pines, 

 And the odor of fir, and trailing vines, 

 And the bracing air with life imbued, 

 Made our pulses beat when the forest wooed. 

 Oh, that grand, old woods with its autumn tints, 

 And the sunlight's glow, and the ruddy glints, 

 And the pebbled brooks and mossy mounds, 

 And that glorious clay with the hunting hounds! 



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