18 THE FORESTERS. 



If such their fate, by thy divine control, 

 O give them health and fortitude of soul ! 

 Souls that disdain the murderous tongue of Fame, 

 And strength, to make the sturdiest of them tame ; 

 Grant this, ye powers! to Dominies distrest, 

 Their sharp-tailed hickories will do the rest. 



Again the shades of sober eve appeared, 

 Up the dark windings of a creek we steered, 

 Where, glad to rest, and each in hungry plight, 

 In Marewine's humble hut we spent the night. 

 Our social host piles up a jovial fire, 

 Brings his best cider, still as we desire, 

 Inspects our arms, with nice inquiring gaze, 

 And while we eat, his hunting spoils displays : 

 The skins of wolves and bears, a panther's Jaws, (10) 

 His horrid tusks and life-destroying claws ; 

 Recounts the toils and terrors of the chase ; 

 And gave us fiddling too, by way of grace ; 

 All which, when bed-time warned us to lie down, 

 We fully paid him for with half a crown. 

 Refreshed with sleep, before the peep of day, 

 O'er rising Pocano (11) we scour away, 

 Beyond whose top the Dismal Swamp extends 

 Where Tobihanna's savage stream descends. 

 Here prostrate woods, in one direction strewed, 

 Point out the path the loud tornado rode, 

 When from the black north-east it gathered strong, 

 Creating ruin as it roared along, 



Crashing outrageous. (12) Still with awe-struck mien, 

 The pilgrim stops, and gazes on the scene. 



