I say unarmed he stood:

Against those frightful paws The rifle butt, or club of wood, Could stand no more than straws.

George Nidiver stood still,

And looked him in the face: The wild beast stopped amazed, Then came with slackening pace.

Still firm the hunter stood,

Although his heart beat high:
Again the creature stopped,
And gazed with wondering eye.

The hunter met his gaze,

Nor yet an inch gave way;
The bear turned slowly round,
And slowly moved away.

What thoughts were in his mind
It would be hard to spell:
What thoughts were in George

Nidiver

I rather guess than tell.

But sure that rifle's aim,

Swift choice of generous part, Showed in its passing gleam The depths of a brave heart.

SVEND VONVED.
[From the old Danish.]

SVEND VONVED binds his sword to his side;

He fain will battle with knights of pride.

"When may I look for thee once more here?

When roast the heifer, and spice the

beer?"

Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"When stones shall take, of themselves, a flight,

And ravens' feathers are Woxen white,

And soon, full soon, shalt thou pay for him,

With the flesh hackt off from thy every limb!"

Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

They drew a circle upon the sward; They both were dour, as the rocks are hard;

Forsooth, I tell you, their hearts were steeled,

The one to the other no jot would yield.

Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

They fought for a day,—they fought for two,

And so on the third they were fain to do;

But ere the fourth day reached the night,

The Brute-carl fell, and was slain outright.

Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. Svend Vonved binds his sword to his side,

Farther and farther he lists to ride; He rode at the foot of a hill so steep, There saw he a herd as he drove the sheep.

Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"Now listen, Herd, with the fleecy

care;

Listen, and give me answers fair.

Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"What is rounder than a wheel? Where do they eat the holiest meal? Where does the sun go down to his

seat?

And where do they lay the dead man's feet?

Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"What fills the valleys one and all? What is clothed best in the monarch's hall?

What cries more loud than cranes can cry?

And what in whiteness the swan out

vie?

Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"Who on his back his beard doth wear?

Who 'neath his chin his nose doth bear?