THE NORTHERN HUNTER’S SONG.
The lingering morn is come—
The long sweet morn of summer’s day!
The brooding mists are flown;
And brightly on his golden way
Comes the long absent sun.
With the mirth of light hearts, and the horn’s deep sound,
And the stirring bay of the restless hound,
Away from the hunter’s home!
Away to the forest vast!
The warm rays have shone on peaks of snow—
They have vanished beneath the gleam,
And the dark bare rocks on the mountain’s brow
Now greet the returning beam!
O’er the rushing stream from his fetters free,
O’er the blossoming heath, and the heaving sea,
A mantle of light is cast!
Hark—to the voice of song!
The thrush’s soft tones on the passing breeze
Like measured music float;—
And afar is heard, through the bending trees,
The capercali’s note.
The shepherd’s low pipe, from the distant shore,
Is blent with the hoarse waves’ mingled roar,
And summons his fleecy throng.
Roused by the sea wind’s sweep,
The eagle has flown from his cliff-built nest,
And stoops to the dashing spray
That foams on the billow’s whitened breast,
To grasp his unwary prey.
The brown bear, to drink at his founts again,
And trample the flowers on the verdant plain,
Has sprung from his wintry sleep.
In the sunlight’s gladdening ray
The red deer bounds from his rocky lair,
To roam in sportive pride,—
And wild birds abroad in the free bright air
Our lingering footsteps chide!
While nature anew to life is born,—
With mirthful shout—and the sounding horn—
To the woods and the hills—away!