Amid the wildernesses vast
That gird the Mississippi's shores,
'Mid woods whose shadows dense are cast
Where the Red River sluggish pours,
The wildcat makes his lonely camp,
His dark, impregnable abode,
Hid in the dusk, unwholesome swamp
Where human foot hath seldom trod.
In dense retreat, in hollow tree,
Or natural cave it rears its brood,
And hunts the forest's recesses
To feed their gaping mouths with food.
In silence of the darkling night,
Or when the new day has its birth,
It goes abroad with step as light
As fall of thistle-down to earth,
No bird may build its airy nest
Beyond the wildcat's plundering quest,
For swift and easy as a bird
It mounts, and scarce a leaf is stirr'd.
It runs, it flies, it springs, it leaps,
As graceful as the antelope,
Yet cruel as the tiger grim
In Indian swamp or mountain slope.

The hare, the 'possum, and the coon,
It waylays in the forest-glade;
'Gainst poultry-yard and sheepfold pen
Its ravaging inroads are made;
So with all arts the human race
Assails it in the pitiless chase.

At day-dawn forth the hunters go
With rifle and with yelping hound;
They run the red fox to his den,
They track the 'cat' in forest grand;
They drive him to some dense retreat
Where high o'erhead the branches meet;
Close to some rough and gnarled limb
The frenzied creature hides and clings.
With foamy jaws and hair erect,
Fierce glances from his eyes he flings,
But deadly aim and rifle-ball
Soon humble him in headlong fall.
But if tenacious life remains,
He meets the baffled, fierce attack,
Then swift thro' wood and briery bush
He flies, the dog pack yelling at his back;
He scales some tree-top, or doth plunge
In some deep fissure of the ground,
And then the death-fight is renew'd
'Twixt the marauder and the hound,
And many a ghastly wound doth show
Before the quarry is laid low.

The Ocean Yacht Race

A noble sight is this, I ween,
Fair panorama of the sea,
The ocean white with crested foam
To windward and to lee;
Bright shines the day on Staten Isle,
On woods of emerald green,
On stately dome and villa roof,
With field and lawn between.
Long Island stretches east away,
Engirdled with the brine;
On sandy bar and weedy rock
The glorious sunbeams shine.

Full many a score of stately yachts
Wide o'er the sea are spread,
Careening like white-plumag'd birds,
On rushing pinions sped.
Vast steamers bound for foreign land,
Their smoky banners raise;
The flag of every nation
Its blazon's field displays.
The sound of martial music
From many a deck arise,
Loud shouts of acclamation
Swell grandly to the skies;
From fortress wall and green parade
Ring out the cannonade.

Off Sandy Hook two stately yachts
The broad arena sweep,
While meteor flag and flag of stars
To each tall masthead leap;
Each emulous to win the prize
For speed in ocean race;
To claim the palm of victory
O'er ocean's rolling space.

See how they matchless ride the seas,
Like rush of desert steed,
Graceful as swan on limpid lake,
Swift as the eagle's speed.
A cloud of canvas each displays
From deck to topmast head,
Jib, mainsail, spinnaker,
In ample folds outspread.

Onward, right onward see them fly,
Cleaving the tumbling surge;
A score of miles away the goal
To which the champions urge.
The mark is reach'd, and homeward now
On free wind turns each dashing prow.
So ends the race, the first great race,
Where Puritan holds foremost place;
But nobly in the watery way
Genesta bore her flag that day!

Once more these yachts the challenge fling,
Again on rushing wings they swing;
From Scotland Lightship swift they bear,
Each yacht a pyramid of snow,
The white sails blossoming high in air,
Balloon jibs all aglow!
Yielding to pressure of the breeze,
Thro' the salt ocean sleet they dash,
Plunging thro' maelstrom of green waves,
Through whirling foam they flash,
'Tis battle of the flight and chase,
Pursuer and pursued;
The centreboard, the cutter race,
Fought out o'er ocean flood.
Ah, Puritan hath won the prize!
And cheers exultant rend the skies.