Chapter XVIII

Here once Boone trod--the hardy Pioneer--
The only white man in the wilderness:[3]
Oh! how he loved, alone, to hunt the deer,
Alone, at eve, his simple meal to dress;
No mark upon the tree, nor print, nor track,
To lead him forward, or to guide him back;
He roved the forest, king by main and might,
And looked up to the sky and shaped his course aright.