Tales and Items of Interest

And did his friends disdain I cannot now explain, Sufi‘ice it here to say That on a certain day,

While searching for some food

He came to Marshfield wood, There he chased the sheep, And fed on mutton sweet,

And when he filled his maw, And licked his greasy paw He laid him down to sleep

By Braddock’s marshy creek.

When Farmer Haythorne arose From bed of sweet repose, With sad surprise he found His sheep were lying round With backs and limbs all broken By bruin’s deadly stroke.

So mounting there and then, One of his trusty men Upon his fleetest steed,

He bade him ride with speed And carry round a note, And some of bruin’s coat To prove beyond a doubt That somewhere round about, Where tangled thickets grow And Marshfield waters flow, Concealed from mortal ken, This robber had his den. And bid the people all Unite at duty’s call To search through field and wood And every place they could By marshes, springs and creeks, To try and stop the tricks, And end the mad career Of this ferocious bear.

So, at a trysting place OfMarshfield ’s noble race, All tried and trusty men

Assembled more than ten, And from Dunstafinage fair, Resolved to kill the bear, 0f men all tried and true Assembled not a few.

And skilled in “hunting game Who tracked the fox and hare, In weather foul and fair, Where Winter River rolls

0 ’er rocks and sandy shoals It’s waters night and day Afar to Bedford Bay.

To tell the name or race Of all who joined the chase, 0r who with hand and heart Each nobly did his part, Sufiice it here to say That on that summer day, With ranks extending wide They swept the country side, 0 ’er meadow, vale and hill, and forest dark and chill, Each calling to his mate To hear and know his fate, Yet none had seen the bear For Bruin was not there.

That morning, in his den, He heard the dogs and men, And springing from his lair,

He snifled the tainted air, And through the forest flew

In search of pastures new. Oh, what a fool was I To lend an listening ear To those who sent me forth On this my mad career Today I might have been, With comrades kind and good Hunting the fox and hare In Pisquid’s lovely wood, With now and then a feast 0f mutton, 0x or beef,

With none to say me nay

0r dare to call me thief,

But here if I but taste A piece of sheep or cow, Immediately there is a universal row

And men are on my tracks

Armed ready for the fray, With predetermined thoughts

My life to take away.

But if the woods hold out And give me room to roam, They’ll wish before it’s night

That they had stayed at home. Or even now had I A comrade by my side We’d meet this motley crowd,

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And chase them far and wide, And these loud shouts of mirth, That grate upon my ear, Would then be quickly turned To cries of pain and fear. With thoughts akin to these, Co-mingling in his mind, Bold Bruin hurried on And left the chase behind, ‘Tis noon, the mid-day sun Had drank the morning dew, Whilst hope in Bruin’s breast Fainter and fainter grew, For hard upon his tracks The stubborn horsemen came, Whilst noise and shouts rang out Afar o’er hill and plain, Oh, for another mile 0f forest dark and tall To hide me from the foe ‘Till shades of evening fall, For e’er another sun Would shine on Craggan ’s shore In Marshfield’s meager woods They ’d find me never more. Vain wish, for even now The river barred his way, And lying to the left Were fields of corn and hay, And Marshfield ’s murmuring brook Now swollen with the tide, Left little chance for flight Upon the Dunstaffnage side. Though in his throbbing breast Hope’s lamp was burning dim, And, weary with the chase, He trembled in each limb, Yet like a meteor flash 0r arrow from a bow,

He doubled on his tracks And met the startled foe, And, ere a man or dog Was ready for the fight He bolted through the lines And disappeared from sight.

And now from mouth to mouth The word is passed about T0 wheel their scattered lines And take a northern route,