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WHERE no warm breeze e'er bade to flow
But oft from some projecting steep The' impetuous winds long-sapping sweep A waste of snow..... With thundering bound Down rushes fast the gathering mound,
O’er crags, o'er pines it drives amain
The Hunter only 'scapes....his way
...............Ah wretch ! no more thy eyes shall see Thy much loved cot....No more for thee
At eve the cheerful fire shall burn To welcome thee at thy return.... Ah, wretch ! for thee no more the smile Of thy dear children shall beguile The tedious hours, nor shall the care Of thy fond wife again prepare The simple meal, nor o'er thy bed The soft fur of the rein-deer spread..... All that was lovely to thine eyes O’erwhelmed in one sad ruin lies; And oft, in midnight's awful gloom, When thou revolv'st their early doom, Thy fears shall bid before thine eyes Spirits of other worlds arise ; And voices as of those so dear Shall shriek upon thy startled ear.