THE hunting tribes of air and earth Respect the brethren of their birth; Nature, who loves the claim of kind, Less cruel chase to each assigned. The falcon, poised on soaring wing, Watches the wild-duck by the spring; The slow-hound wakes the fox's lair, The gray-hound presses on the hare ; The eagle pounces on the lamb, The wolf devours the fleecy dam; E'en tiger fell, and sullen bear, Their likeness and their lineage spare. Man, only, mars kind Nature's plan, And turns the fierce pursuit on man; Plying war's desultory trade, Incursion, flight, and ambuscade,
Since Nimrod, Cush's mighty son,
At first the bloody game begun.
The Indian, prowling for his prey,
Who hears the settlers track his way,
And knows in distant forest far
Camp his red brethren of the war;
He, when each double and disguise
To baffle the pursuit he tries,
Low crouching now his head to hide,
Where swampy streams through rushes glide,
Now covering with the withered leaves
The foot-prints that the dew receives;
He, skilled in every sylvan guile,
Knows not, nor tries such various wile,
As Risingham, when on the wind
Arose the loud pursuit behind.
In Redesdale his youth had heard
Each art her wily dalesman dared,
When Rooken-edge, and Redswair high,
To bugle rung and blood-hound's cry,
Announcing Jedwood-axe and spear,
And Lid'sdale riders in the rear;
And well his venturous life had proved
The lessons that his childhood loved.
Oft had he shown, in climes afar,
Each attribute of roving war;
The sharpened ear, the piercing eye,
The quick resolve in danger nigh;
The speed, that, in the flight or chase,
Outstripped the Charib's rapid race;
The steady brain, the sinewy limb,
To leap, to climb, to dive, to swim ;
The iron frame, inured to bear
Each dire inclemency of air,
Nor less confirmed to undergo
Fatigue's faint chill, and famine's throe.
These arts he proved his life to save,
In peril oft by land and wave,
On Arawaka's desert shore,
Or where La Plata's billows roar,
When oft the sons of vengeful Spain
Tracked the marauder's steps in vain.
These arts, in Indian warfare tried,
Must save him now by Greta's side.
'Twas then, in hour of utmost need,
He proved his courage, art, and speed.
Now slow he stalked with stealthy pace,
Now started forth in rapid race,
Oft doubling back in mazy train,
To blind the trace the dews retain ;
Now clombe the rocks projecting high,
To baffle the pursuer's eye.
Now sought the stream whose brawling sound The echo of his footsteps drowned.
But if the forest verge he nears,
There trample steeds and glimmer spears;
If deeper down the copse he drew,
He heard the rangers' loud halloo,
Beating each cover while they came,
As if to start the sylvan game.
'Twas then-like tiger close beset
At every pass with toil and net,
Countered, where'er he turns his glare,
By clashing arms and torches' flare,
Who meditates, with furious bound,
To burst on hunter, horse, and hound,
'Twas then that Bertram's soul arose,
Prompting to rush upon his foes:
But as that crouching tiger, cowed
By brandished steel and shouting crowd,
Retreats beneath the jungle's shroud,
Bertram suspends his purpose stern,
And couches in the brake and fern,
Hiding his face, lest foemen spy
The sparkle of his swarthy eye.
Then Bertram might the bearing trace Of the bold youth who led the chase, Who paused to list for every sound, Climbed every height to look around, Then rushing on with naked sword, Each dingle's bosky depths explored.
"Twas Redmond-by the azure eye;
'Twas Redmond-by the locks that fly
Disordered from his glowing cheek;
Mien, face, and form, young Redmond speak.
A form more active, light, and strong,
Ne'er shot the ranks of war along;
The modest, yet the manly mien,
Might grace the court of maiden queen.
A face more fair you well might find,
For Redmond's knew the sun and wind,
Nor boasted, from their tinge when free,
The charm of regularity;
But every feature had the power
To aid the expression of the hour:
Whether gay wit, and humour sly,
Danced laughing in his light-blue eye;
Or bended brow, and glance of fire,
And kindling cheek, spoke Erin's ire;
Or soft and saddened glances show
Her ready sympathy with wo;
Or in that wayward mood of mind,
When various feelings are combined,
When joy and sorrow mingle near,
And hope's bright wings are checked by fear,
And rising doubts keep transport down,
And anger lends a short-lived frown;
In that strange mood which maids approve,
E'en when they dare not call it love,
With every change his features played,
As aspens show the light and shade.
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