THE FORESTERS. 55 



Lone chirping crickets hail the coming night, 

 And bats around us wheel their giddy flight; 

 The drumming pheasant vibrates on the ear ; 

 The distant forests dimly disappear. 

 Slow sinks the day; and through the impending woods, 

 Night spreads her wings, and deepening darkness 

 broods. 



A death-like silence reigns the forest through ; 



At last the path evanishes from view. 



Here as we stoop, our dubious course to steer, 



Inhuman screams at once assail our ear ; 



The hollow, quivering, loud repeated howl, 



Full overhead, betrays the haggard owl ; 



Who, well for her, in muffling darkness past, 



Else this heart-sinking scream had been her last. 



Thus through the forest, wrapt in deepest shade, 

 Beneath black arms of tow'ring oaks we strayed, 

 At solemn intervals the peace profound 

 Disturbed by rattling nuts thatdropt around. 

 Shrill, wildly issuing from a neighboring height, 

 The wolf's deep howlings pierce the ear of night; 

 From the dark swamp he calls his skulking crew, 

 Their nightly scenes of slaughter to renew; 

 Their mingling yells sad savage woes express, 

 And echo dreary through the dark recess. 

 Steady along through swamps and pools we went ; 

 The way-worn foresters fatigued and faint, 

 Scrambling o'er Allien logs that fractured lay, 

 Or stunned by viewless boughs that crossed our way; 

 While glaring round, through roots and stumps decayed, 



