 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
THE MOUNTAIN HUNTER.
My footsteps through the forest rove,
My heart is in the forest free;
All former days and former love
Are playthings of the past to me;
And I have learned, within this grove,
A hunter of the deer to be.
My heart is in the forest free;
All former days and former love
Are playthings of the past to me;
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A hunter of the deer to be.
The running brook supplies my thirst,
My rifle finds me daily food:
In other days I learned that worst
Of evils o'er the city brood;
I fled, and then upon me burst
The glory of the pathless wood.
My rifle finds me daily food:
In other days I learned that worst
Of evils o'er the city brood;
I fled, and then upon me burst
The glory of the pathless wood.
Here sits the scarlet tanager
In music upon the hornbeam bough;
Its voice reminds me much of her—
What matters such a memory now?
She would not know her worshipper
With these elf-locks and swarthy brow.
In music upon the hornbeam bough;
Its voice reminds me much of her—
What matters such a memory now?
She would not know her worshipper
With these elf-locks and swarthy brow.
Within the hills my cabin stands,
Of logs and clay a palace rare,
The work of these my brawny hands,
Rest, health, and comfort meet me there;
The solitude of these broad lands
Would never fit my lady fair.
Of logs and clay a palace rare,
The work of these my brawny hands,
Rest, health, and comfort meet me there;
The solitude of these broad lands
Would never fit my lady fair.
Yet could I see her once again,
As in my dreams I often see,
It were a spirit-cheering pain
E'en did she frown as erst on me,
And I might gather from it then
New strength thus lonely here to be.
As in my dreams I often see,
It were a spirit-cheering pain
E'en did she frown as erst on me,
And I might gather from it then
New strength thus lonely here to be.
The wish is vain; another wears
The jewel I had hoped to own;
Of me she neither knows nor cares;
I waste within this wood alone;
My heart no more to struggle dares
Against its hardening into stone.
The jewel I had hoped to own;
Of me she neither knows nor cares;
I waste within this wood alone;
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Against its hardening into stone.
Up, man! forget the gnawing past,
Enjoy the freshning morning air;
Be glad whene'er the wildwood blast
Shall toss in play thy tangled hair;
And, when the sun is overcast,
Go track the wild bear to his lair.
Enjoy the freshning morning air;
Be glad whene'er the wildwood blast
Shall toss in play thy tangled hair;
And, when the sun is overcast,
Go track the wild bear to his lair.
There in the laurel-roughs meet him,
Acquit thee as a hunter should,
Quail not before his brawny limb,
Attack him with thy weapon good;
Strike till his eye begins to dim—
Thou art the monarch of this wood.
Acquit thee as a hunter should,
Quail not before his brawny limb,
Attack him with thy weapon good;
Strike till his eye begins to dim—
Thou art the monarch of this wood.
A wilder brute than he there lies
Hid in thy soul—the bitter wrong
She did unto thee with her eyes,
Which caused so many fiends to throng
Into thy spirit's cell; arise
And conquer that, and so be strong.
Hid in thy soul—the bitter wrong
She did unto thee with her eyes,
Which caused so many fiends to throng
Into thy spirit's cell; arise
And conquer that, and so be strong.
That is a true man's truest fight;
Who quells his passions is a king
To reign within the realm of right;
To him the just their homage bring,
And angels wait with garments bright
To robe him when his soul takes wing.
Who quells his passions is a king
To reign within the realm of right;
To him the just their homage bring,
And angels wait with garments bright
To robe him when his soul takes wing.
Ah! all in vain such counsel brave!
My spirit still in Lethè seeks
The fervor of its woe to lave,
To drown its pang-betraying shrieks,
And ever in its breathing grave
Its agony and anguish speaks.
My spirit still in Lethè seeks
The fervor of its woe to lave,
To drown its pang-betraying shrieks,
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Its agony and anguish speaks.
I may not crush, but bear the asp
Which gnaws forever at my heart;
In dreams I feel her gentle clasp,
And at her touch to life I start,
Then all reality I grasp,
And stand alive, from life apart.
Which gnaws forever at my heart;
In dreams I feel her gentle clasp,
And at her touch to life I start,
Then all reality I grasp,
And stand alive, from life apart.
Here in these grand old woods, whose shade,
So dusky brown, befits my lot,
I sit within the leafy glade
And gaze upon the Guyandotte,
And, as I sit, to calm betrayed,
Drink deep the beauty of the spot.
So dusky brown, befits my lot,
I sit within the leafy glade
And gaze upon the Guyandotte,
And, as I sit, to calm betrayed,
Drink deep the beauty of the spot.
Last Mistress, Nature; love no more
My soul pursues; to hunt the deer
My sole pursuit; my youth is o'er,
My manhood past, and age draws near;
Seared by my sorrows to the core,
I own no hope, I feel no fear.
My soul pursues; to hunt the deer
My sole pursuit; my youth is o'er,
My manhood past, and age draws near;
Seared by my sorrows to the core,
I own no hope, I feel no fear.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |