Poem by Clinton Scollard

The Hunter

I crept up Benbulbin a-hunting the boar;
Mist swooped on the heather, mist swept down the shore,
And all of the tongues of the mountain, they murmured behind and before.

Then out of a cleft rose a terrible cry,
And a form like a demon went ravening by,
And I fell in a quake on the moss, and I thought I should die.

I 'm no hunting man now, and I sit by the fire,
And whenever the wind keens around by the byre,
I shiver and rock like a reed that has root in the mire.

And if you 're a young man, and sound to the core,
And a sweet maid is waiting you home at the door,
Beware how you creep up Benbulbin a-hunting the boar!

1. The Mist and the Sea
2. The Wind of Mourne
3. The Tides
4. Night Song by the Sea
5. The Spectral Rowers

Ellis Butler The Hunter ("A full-fledged gun cannot endure")

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