  One night the Brownies strayed around A green and level stretch of ground, Where young folk oft their skill displayed At archery, till evening's shade. The targets standing in the park, With arrows resting in the mark, Soon showed the cunning Brownie band The skill of those who'd tried a hand. A few in outer rings were fast, Some pierced the "gold," and more had passed Without a touch, until they sank In trunk of tree or grassy bank. Said one: "On page and parchment old, The story often has been told, How men of valor bent the bow To spread confusion through the foe. And even now, in later times (As travelers find in distant climes), Some savage tribes on plain and hill Can make it interesting still." Another spoke: "A scene like this, Reminds me of that valiant Swiss, Who in the dark and trying hour Revealed such nerve and matchless power, And from the head of his brave son The apple shot, and freedom won! While such a chance is offered here, We'll find the bows that must be near, And as an hour or two of night Will bring us 'round the morning light, We'll take such targets as we may, To safer haunts, some miles away. Then at our leisure we can shoot At bull's-eyes round or luscious fruit, Till like the Swiss of olden time, With steady nerves and skill sublime, Each one can split an apple fair On every head that offers there." Now buildings that were fastened tight Against the prowlers of the night, At the wee Brownies' touch and call Soon opened and surrendered all. So some with bulky targets strode, That made for eight or ten a load. And called for engineering skill To steer them up or down the hill; Some carried bows of rarest kind, That reached before and trailed behind. The English "self-yew" bow was there, Of nicest make and "cast" so rare, Well tipped with horn, the proper thing, With "nocks," or notches, for the string. Still others formed an "arrow line" That bristled like the porcupine. When safe within the forest shade, The targets often were displayed. At first, however near they stood, Some scattered trouble through the wood. The trees were stripped of leaves and bark, With arrows searching for the mark. The hares to other groves withdrew, And frighted birds in circles flew. But practice soon improves the art Of all, however dull or smart; And there they stood to do their best, And let all other pleasures rest, While quickly grew their skill and power, And confidence, from hour to hour. When targets seemed too plain or wide, A smaller mark the Brownies tried. By turns each member took his stand And risked his head to serve the band. For volunteers would bravely hold A pumpkin till in halves it rolled; And then a turnip, quince, or pear, Would next be shot to pieces there; Till not alone the apples flew In halves before their arrows true, But even plums and cherries too. For Brownies, as we often find, Can soon excel the human kind, And carry off with effort slight The highest praise and honors bright. |
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