 | Hours at Naples, and Other Poems |  |
THE DEER OF THE FOREST.
'Twas a deer of the Forest rushed by fleet and light—
In his fair antlered pride—in his free graceful might,
And the Earth echoed not his step's fast beating rain,
And mine eyes sought to follow his swift course in vain.
In his fair antlered pride—in his free graceful might,
And the Earth echoed not his step's fast beating rain,
And mine eyes sought to follow his swift course in vain.
I might scarce mark his beauteous and delicate form,
As he passed like the lightning that gleams through the storm,
While his eyes dark refulgence rolled, wild and more wild,
As he bravely dashed by, like the whirlwind's wing'd child.
As he passed like the lightning that gleams through the storm,
While his eyes dark refulgence rolled, wild and more wild,
As he bravely dashed by, like the whirlwind's wing'd child.
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'Twas a Deer of the Forest!—I saw him again,
But all ghastly with wounds and all feeble with pain;
How heaved his proud chest, and how panted his side—
Oh! where was his might and his brave fearless pride?
But all ghastly with wounds and all feeble with pain;
How heaved his proud chest, and how panted his side—
Oh! where was his might and his brave fearless pride?
Poor Deer of the Forest!—how many like thee
Go forth in the morning—glad, buoyant, and free,
And ere night fall sore stricken, the spoiler's doomed prey—
Their strength and their joy but the tale of a day!
Go forth in the morning—glad, buoyant, and free,
And ere night fall sore stricken, the spoiler's doomed prey—
Their strength and their joy but the tale of a day!
| Hours at Naples, and Other Poems | |