It breaks again in thunder on that shore.
The well-trained setter through the covert seeks
The bird the sportsman’s fancy prizes o’er
The feathered songsters of the woodland wild;
The covey starts, and soon the murd’rous aim
Brings down the plover, or the woodcock dun,
Or mottled pheasant, that puts trust in man,
And finds, as all have found, the trust abused.
On the brown stump the sprightly squirrel sits,
Filling his striped pouch with ripened grain,