Page:Oriental Sketches Dramatic Sketches and Tales.pdf/106

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The sport I love to follow on Spitzbergen's shore. Beneath the frowning icebergs, floundering seals Perform their clumsy gambols on deep beds Of drifted snow. I trace the sullen bear Home to his den, or join him as he prowls Along the cold inhospitable coast, List to his low deep growl, and see him tear His prey in savage joy. On the top Of lofty Caucasus a hideous storm Is brewing by the fiends of hell; the caves Have let loose all their winds; the sooty clouds Are filled with sulphur; in mere wantonness The hurricane is hatched; and it might spend Its idle fury o'er Tartarian wastes; But I'll bestride the dingy scud, and lead The tempest o'er the Euxine. There's a bark