Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/222

204 Urge your swift horse After the crying hounds in this fresh hour Vanquish high hills stem perilous streams perforce Where the glades ope give free wings to your course And you will know the power Of the brave chase and how of griefs the sorest, A cure is in the forest. Or stalk the deer: The same red fires of dawn illume the hills, The gladdest sounds are crowding on your ear, There is a life in all the atmosphere Your very nature fills With the fresh hour, as up the hills aspiring, You climb with limbs untiring. It is a fair And pleasant sight, to see the mountain stag, With the long sweep of his swift walk, repair To join his brothers; or the plethoric bear Lying on some high crag, With pinky eyes half closed, but broad head shaking, As gadflies keep him waking. And these you see, And, seeing them, you travel to their death, With a slow stealthy step from tree to tree Noting the wind, however faint it be; The hunter draws a breath In times like these, which he will say repays him For all the care that waylays him.