Chapter XIX

That mountain, there, that lifts its bald high head
Above the forest, was, perchance, his throne;
There has he stood and marked the woods outspread,
Like a great kingdom, that was all his own;
In hunting shirt and moccassins arrayed,
With bear skin cap, and pouch, and needful blade,
How carelessly he leaned upon his gun!
That sceptre of the wild, that had so often won.