A Sacandaga Deer Hunt (Poem into Song) lyrics by Charles Fenno Hoffman

Song: A Sacandaga Deer Hunt
Lyrics: Charles Fenno Hoffman, from his book "Wild Scenes in the Forest and Prairie, Volume 2"
Music: AI

Background: This poem was written by Charles Fenno Hoffman of his memory in the Town of Lake Pleasant on Sacandaga Lake during a deer hunt with a group of Mohawks from St. Regis in the early 1800's. The hunting party was guided by a local Mohawk named Capt. Gill who lived in the region.

(Verse1)
Up, comrades, up! The mead-lark's note,
And the plover's cry o'er the prairie float,
The squirrel he springs from his covert now,
To prank it away on the chestnut bough.
Where the oriole's pendant nest high up,
Is rocked on the swaying trees,
While the hum-bird sips from the here-bell's cup,
As it bends to the morning breeze.
(chorus)
Up, comrades, up! The morn's awake,
Upon the mountain side,
The wild-drake's wing hath swept the lake,
And the deer has left the tangled brake,
To drink from the rippling tide.
(verse2)
Up! Comrades, up! Our shallops grate,
Upon the pebbly strand,
And our stalwart hounds impatient wait,
To spring from the huntsman's hand.
The hunt is up!
The merry woodland shout,
That rung these,
Echoing glades about,
(chorus)
Up, comrades, up! The morn's awake,
Upon the mountain side,
The wild-drake's wing hath swept the lake,
And the deer has left the tangled brake,
To drink from the rippling tide.
(verse3)
An hour agone,
Hath swept beyond the eastern hills,
Where pale and lone,
The moon here mystic circle fills.
And now from thicket dark,
When by the mist-wreathed river,
The firefly's spark,
Will fitful quiver.
(chorus)
Up, comrades, up! The morn's awake,
Upon the mountain side,
The wild-drake's wing hath swept the lake,
And the deer has left the tangled brake,
To drink from the rippling tide.
(verse4)
The bubbles round the lilies cup,
From lurking trout come coursing up,
The doe hath led her fawn to drink,
The lonely bittern's cry will sink.
Upon the hunter's ear,
Who, startled from his early sleep,
Lists for some sounds approaching nigher,
Half-dreaming lists, then turns to heap.
Another fagot on his fire,
And then again in dreams one more,
Pursues his quarry by the shore.
(chorus)
Up, comrades, up! The morn's awake,
Upon the mountain side,
The wild-drake's wing hath swept the lake,
And the deer has left the tangled brake,
To drink from the rippling tide.