Classic Poem

The blood hounds, long upon the trail,
Have rambled faithful, hill and dale;
But mind, such creatures never fail,
To run the rebel down.
His fears forbid him long to stop,
Altho' he gains the mountain top,
He soon is made his tail to drop,
And fleets to leave the hounds.

Alas! he speeds from place to place,
Such is the fox upon the chase;
To him the mud is no disgrace,
No lair his cause defends.
He leaves a law and seeks a dell,
And where to fly 'tis hard to tell;
He fears before to meet with hell;
Behind he has no friends.

But who can pity such a fox,
Though buried among the rocks?
He's a nuisance among the flocks,
And sucks the blood of geese.
He takes advantage of the sheep,
His nature is at night to creep,
And rob the flocks while the herdsmen sleep,
When dogs can have no peace.

But he is now brought to a bay,
However fast he run away,
He knows he has not long to stay,
And assumes a raccoon's dress.
Found in a hole, he veils his face,
And fain would take a lady's place,
But fails, for he has run his race,
And falls into distress.

The fox is captured in his den,
The martial troops of Michigan
May hence be known the fleetest men,
For Davis is their prey.
Great Babylon has fallen down,
A King is left without a crown,
Stripped of honors and renown,
The evening ends the day.