And through the boy's pursuing foe
He sent his only ball.

The other on George Nidiver

Came on with dreadful pace:

The hunter stood unarmed,

And met him face to face.

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.

BUT if thou do thy nest,
Without remission, without rest,
And invite the sunbeam,

And abhor to feign or seem

Even to those who thee should love
And thy behavior approve;

If thou go in thine own likeness,
Be it health or be it sickness;
If thou go as thy father's son,
If thou wear no mask or lie,
Dealing purely and nakedly;