Let others chase the timid deer
O’er field or level moor,
We’ve a braver sport, and a nobler here,
To chase the mighty boar.
Through forest dark, and tangled wood,
Where mountain torrents flow,
With hearts by danger ne’er subdued,
O! merrily we go!-
How he roars, as he springs from his lair so dark!
He bounds! he bounds! in his fury borne
Through glens and dingles green,
Where nought is heard but the hunter’s horn,
Where none save we have been!
And lo! as he springs through copse and brake.
Our well-aimed arrows fly,
He falls! he falls! and the wild woods shake,
As he roars in his agony.
The shaft has arrived at its destined mark!