 | Indian melodies |  |
32
[My love is a hunter ... he hunts the fleet deer]
My love is a hunter ... he hunts the fleet deer,
With fusil or arrow, one half of the year;
He hunts the fleet deer, over mountain and lea,
But his heart is still panting for love and for me.
Oh, blest is the wood-nymph, reclin'd at her ease,
As she thinks on her love in her bower of trees.
With fusil or arrow, one half of the year;
He hunts the fleet deer, over mountain and lea,
But his heart is still panting for love and for me.
Oh, blest is the wood-nymph, reclin'd at her ease,
As she thinks on her love in her bower of trees.
My love is a warrior—when warriors go,
With fusil or arrow to strike the bold foe,
He treads the bright war-path with step bold and free,
But still his thoughts wander to love and to me.
Oh blest, &c.
With fusil or arrow to strike the bold foe,
He treads the bright war-path with step bold and free,
But still his thoughts wander to love and to me.
Oh blest, &c.
But hunter or warrior—where'er he may go,
To track the fleet reindeer, or follow the foe;
His heart's warm desire, field and forest still flee,
To go hunting his love, and make captive of me.
Oh blest. &c.
To track the fleet reindeer, or follow the foe;
His heart's warm desire, field and forest still flee,
To go hunting his love, and make captive of me.
Oh blest. &c.
| Indian melodies | |