. Poems . ed to greet the Evening Star, Mingling his glance of clearer light With the first radiance of the night, And in the twilight, tarrying late, Unwilling passed the western gate; A hunter, wearied with the chase. With his spent steed was slowly turning Unto his far-off resting place, Where his lone campfire light was burning— For many a mile his steed had gone O er the wide prairie since the dawn. The choice bits from the saddle hung. The deers fat haunch, the buffalos tongue, A simple but a sweet repast To cheer his long and painful fast. Slow paced the strong but weary steed Of spacio
. Poems . ed to greet the Evening Star, Mingling his glance of clearer light With the first radiance of the night, And in the twilight, tarrying late, Unwilling passed the western gate; A hunter, wearied with the chase. With his spent steed was slowly turning Unto his far-off resting place, Where his lone campfire light was burning— For many a mile his steed had gone O er the wide prairie since the dawn. The choice bits from the saddle hung. The deers fat haunch, the buffalos tongue, A simple but a sweet repast To cheer his long and painful fast. Slow paced the strong but weary steed Of spacious chest and lightning speed, A coal black of the Norman breed Who neer had failed in time of need; A creature full of strength and grace. The noblest of his noble race In toil, in battle, or the chase, To hunt the bear on mountain side, To chase the deer o er prairie wide, Or dash upon the ambuscade Of wily Indian foe arrayed. Or plunge through winters deepest snow, Or breast the torrents swiftest BIRTHPLACE OF JEFFERSON DAVIS Fairview, Christian County, Kentucky THE HUNTERS LAST RIDE. To huntsman who has borne the toil,Welcome the rest, and sweet the spoil;So mused McGregor in his his steed, when far behind,Upon his startled ears there cameA rushing sound of distant flame—A long, hoarse murmuring, sullen sound,As when an earthquake shakes the the volcanos voice of wrathWarns all to leave the lavas moment scarce he turned his well he knew that sound of dread,A moment—and McGregor sawA sight to chill his soul with awe;Behind him, hastening onward cameA long, red serpent line of , hissing, shot its tongues of lightUpward into the gathering night,While midway twixt the earth and sky-Like a death-angel hovering smoke pall rolled in volumes dread,The awful banner of the the burden was untied—Now, Saladin! the huntsman cried,Now, Saladin, my gallant steed,Attest thyself of noble breed,For never yet
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