His muscular frame was of the brawny size,

And active fury danc'd within his eyes.
At wrestling he the num'rous group defies,

And dares that arm that might presume to rise : 30
Scarce had his words full wing'd their glorious sound
Ere Edward's steps the trembling leaves rebound.
Altho' no tongue amidst the circle spoke,

He shortly, thus, the pausing silence broke : Beware, O youth, tho' in these forests bred, 35 Where vig'rous sinews own an earthly bed,

How your proud strength in contact bring with mine,
That dreads no arm, nor wrestling feats decline;
Let five fair throws the manly sport decide,

The best of these shall tell the victor's side." 40
Th' undaunted Indian marks appropriate ground,
Which moss-clad spot the anxious tribe surround.
The two opponents close in stedfast grip,
While various twines evade the fatal trip;

But Edward's skill no Indian hug could boast,

And by its art the first hard round he lost:

Again he clos'd with no diminish'd hopes,

45

He learn'd the squeeze, and down the Indian drops. Another round, the swarthy hero cries,

When ev'ry nerve encreasing vigour tries;

50

His curved limbs arise in arching pride,

And o'er the earth in giant posture stride:

But Edward's strength proves all his efforts vain,
The Micmac's head imprints the mossy plain.

A breathing pause precedes the conquering throw,
And in the ring the panting wrestlers blow.

55

Once more they join, in nervous arms lock'd fast,

While wreathing fury dreads the fatal cast;

Victorious doubt no looker-on would tell,

Till crush'd at last th' exhausted Indian fell.
Amidst the group that form'd the motley ring,
Success to Edward! bawl'd the aged King;

60

While Susan young, with heart devoid of guile,
Receives the victor with a gracious smile:
A splendid belt that sparkling beads adorn,
In savage grandeur deck'd a huntsman's horn;
While in her hands this dangling trophy play'd,

In words of softness thus to Edward said:

"Accept, fair youth, beneath this beechen-tree,
This horn and belt, a welcome gift from me;
May they preserve you in the perilous chase!
Deep in

my heart your welfare finds a place; Permit me now to grace thy panting side

65

70%

With simple wreaths, yet still the hunter's pride."
Soon as her hands the dazzling knot had tied, 75
The youthful Edward to this nymph reply'd:
"O lovely girl who step'st the woodland plain,

How light I feel beneath thy pleasant chain!

With glorious pride I view this Indian horn,
Which for your sake triumphant shall be worn. 80

By those sweet eyes, wild sparkling with delight,

Woe to that arm that dares invade my right

Of wearing these, with lustre from thy hand,
The highest honours of thy father's land!

If in the chase your Edward's limbs should tire, 85
The look of these shall still my soul inspire,

To fresh fatigues to win a hunter's fame,

And noble deeds re-echo Susan's name."

Once more the fire the savage chiefs surround,
And for the feast, some clear the bushy ground: 90

Six sharpen'd stakes, that riper years can boast,

Are plac'd in form to bear the noble roast.

To lift this dish, ten stouter chiefs arise,

And staggering walk beneath their frying prize.
In posture strict a fighting bear is plac'd,

With grinning jaws towards the circle fac'd;
The furry coat that warm'd its master's hide,
To rum converted, flows in rapid tide :

95

An Indian cask, that held the sweet supply,

Is broach'd in form beneath the monster's eye. 100

In noted hands the huntsman's cup is plac'd;

And first of all the bear is ask'd to taste.

Here savage Wit exerts her comic pow'rs,

While mirth and feasting crown the happy hours.

In carving cuts, all seem extremely nice,
And with his knife each picks his fav'rite slice;
Unmeasur'd draughts successive pass around,
And loud and louder swells the festive sound,
Till renting stomachs can receive no more,
Reluctant must the eating part give o'er.
Around the scene the Indian dance arose,

105

110

The horrid emblem of their bloody foes;
Surpris'd at such young Edward's voice was still,
For at the sight he found his blood run chill;
When Susan, whispering in his ear, did say, 115
"Where love, soft, leads, can Edward find the way?"