Fight of a Buffalo With Wolves
We were so deeply impressed with the courage displayed by a buffalo
in a prose tale that we transposed the description into verse.
A buffalo, lord of the plain,
With massive neck and mighty mane,
While from his herd he slowly strays,
He on green herbage calm doth graze ;
And when at last he lifts his eyes,
A savage wolf he soon espies ;
But scarcely deigns to turn his head,
For it inspires him with no dread.
He knows the wolf is treacherous foe,
But feels he soon could lay him low.
A moment more, and there’s a pair,
Whose savage eyes do on him glare ;
But with contempt them both he scorns,
Unworthy of his powerful horns.
Their numbers soon do multiply,
But the whole pack he doth defy ;
He could bound quickly o’er the plain,
And his own herd could soon regain.
His foes they now are full a score,
With lolling tongues pant for his gore ;
He hears their teeth all loudly gnash,
So eager his big bones to crash.
On every side they him infest,
The north, the south, the east, the west ;
Fierce rage doth now gleam from his eye,
Resolved to conquer or to die.
‘Round him they yelp and howl and growl,
He glares on them with angry scowl ;
They circle closer him around,
He roars and springs with mighty bound ;
And of his power gives ample proof,
Felling them with horn and hoof.
Though some lay dead upon the plain,
Yet their attack was not in vain,
For they have tasted of his blood,
Resolved it soon shall pour a flood.
He feels that they have torn his hide,
And streams gush from each limb and side ;
He rushes on them in despair
And tosses them full high in air.
But others rush on him and pull
Down to the earth that glorious bull ;
On the flesh of this noble beast,
Their bloody jaws they soon do feast.
Full worthy of a better fate,
Far from his herd and his dear mate ;
And they do look for him in vain,
His bones do whiten now the plain.
