THE FORESTERS. 21 



Again, slow stealing o'er the shaded road, 



Trailing their broad barrd tails,two pheasants(lS) strode, 



The levelled tube its fiery thunders poured, 



And deep around the hollow forest roared, 



Low in the dust the mangled victims lie, 



And concious triumph fills each traveller's eye. 



Now thickening rains begin to cloud the air, 

 Our guns we muffle up — our only care; 

 Darker and heavier now the tempest lowered, 

 And on the rattling leaves incessant poured ; 

 The groaning trees in hollow murmurs waved ; 

 And wild around the rising tempest raved. 

 Below dark, dropping pines we onward tread, 

 Where Bear Creek grumbles down his gloomy bed, 

 Through darksome gulfs, where bats forever skim, 

 The haunts of howling w r olves and panthers grim. 

 At length two hovels through the pines appear, 

 And from the pelting storm we shelter here. 

 Two lank, lean dogs pace o'er the loosened floor ; 

 A pouch and rifle hung behind the door ; 

 Shrill through the logs the whistling tempest beats, 

 And the rough woodsman welcomes us to seats. 

 Before the blazing pile we smoking stand, 

 Our muskets glittering in the hunter's hand ; 

 Now poised, now levelled to his curious eye ; 

 Then in the chimney corner set to dry. 

 Our clear, green powder-flasks were next admired ; 

 Our powder tasted, handled, rubbed, and fired ; 

 Touched by the spark, lo ! sudden blazes soar, 

 And leave the paper spotless as before. 



