Ex Lib r is 
 C. K. OGDEN
 
 .' V
 
 6 K
 
 HUNTING SONGS AND 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 VERSES. 
 
 r
 
 HUNTING SONGS 
 
 AND 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES, 
 
 BY R. E. EGERTON WARBURTON. 
 
 " For honeft hunting never was accounted fmne, 
 Nor never fhall for mee." 
 
 Old Seng, temp. Jamet I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, LONGMANS, 
 AND ROBERTS. 
 
 MANCHESTER: GEORGE SIMMS. 
 .859.
 
 Annex 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 T GLADLY comply with the requeft that 
 has been made to me to publifh a new 
 and enlarged edition of thefe Hunting Songs. 
 It is a welcome aflurance that the fubjecl of 
 which they treat continues to be one of 
 general intereft, and I hope that, in fome 
 flight degree, thefe Songs may be the means 
 of encouraging a love for the noble fport of 
 Fox-hunting. 
 
 For the publication of the Mifcellaneous 
 Verfes I have no fuch good excufe to offer. 
 If, taking off my hunting boots, I venture 
 to thruft my feet into the Critical Stocks, 
 as Riccabocca, feized with an irrefiftible
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 defire to experience the fenfation, placed his 
 in thofe of the village, I truft I ihall fubmit 
 with equal refignation and good humour to 
 the penalty which my prefumption may 
 incur. 
 
 R. E. E. W. 
 
 Arley Hall, Jan. 1859.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 Page 
 
 THE Woore Country i 
 
 Quasfitum Mentis 6 
 
 Old Oulton Lowe 9 
 
 The Old Brown Foreft 13 
 
 Tarporley Hunt, 1833 18 
 
 On the New Kennel erefled on Delamere Foreft . 21 
 
 Hawkftone Bowmeeting 23 
 
 Chefhire Chivalry z6 
 
 On the Pi6Vure of the Cheftiire Hunt 31 
 
 The Breeches 33 
 
 Song 37 
 
 The Little Red Rover 41 
 
 The Blooming Evergreen 43 
 
 Song 44 
 
 The Tantivy Trot 46 
 
 The Speftre Stag 48 
 
 The Ladie of the Caftle of Windeck 53 
 
 Reichberger the Robber 56 
 
 The Ladie Cunigunda of Kyneft 61 
 
 The Dead Hunter 66 
 
 Riding to Hounds 67 
 
 Sport in the Highlands 68 
 
 The Ball and the Battue 71 
 
 The Sawyer 73 
 
 The Fox and the Brambles 76 
 
 The Earth Stopper 78
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Tarwood 80 
 
 Epitaph 89 
 
 Charade 89 
 
 Infcription 90 
 
 Farmer Dobbin 91 
 
 Chefhire Jumpers 97 
 
 Tarporley Hunt Song 102 
 
 We are all of us Tailors in turn 104. 
 
 A Word ere we ftart 108 
 
 Hard-riding Dick no 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 
 
 On an Artificial Rofe 115 
 
 Ballad 117 
 
 Song of Odin 120 
 
 Chant Du Marin 122 
 
 On the Bowmeeting and Fancy Fair, held at Haw- 
 
 arden Caftle, Auguft 25, 1835 124. 
 
 Bowmeeting Song 126 
 
 The Paper Knife 129 
 
 EPIGRAMS : 
 
 On feeing in the fame Book-fhelf Johnfon's Lives 
 
 of the Poets, and Johnfon's Lives of Highwaymen 132 
 
 Carving and Gilding 1 32 
 
 A Retort Uncourteous 133 
 
 A New Denomination 133 
 
 On a Smoking Poet 134. 
 
 On a New Church 135 
 
 On the Admiflion of Jews into Parliament . . 136 
 
 On feeing fome Names cut on a Pane of Glafs . 1 37 
 
 Modern Chivalry 138 
 
 On the Landlord of the White Horfe Inn, at Alpnach, 
 
 in Switzerland 14.0 
 
 The Flying Hat 142 
 
 The Death of Geoffrey Rudel, the Troubadour . . 144
 
 CONTENTS. ix 
 
 Page 
 
 Lorelei 149 
 
 Song 154. 
 
 Chimonanthus Fragrans 156 
 
 Paraphrafe on the Twenty-eighth Chapter of Job . 157 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 On Viliting Petrarch's Houfe 161 
 
 A Recollection 162 
 
 The Chapel Bell 163 
 
 On an Old Barn converted into a Village School . 164 
 
 On Crofling the Simplon . 165 
 
 Naples at Stinfet 166 
 
 On a Defecrated Chapel near Laufanne, now ufed as 
 
 a Stable 167 
 
 On the Clock in Strafburgh Cathedral . . . . 168 
 
 On a Drawing of the Crucifixion 169 
 
 On Vifiting the Caftle and Church of Gruyere in 
 
 Switzerland 170 
 
 On the River Tepl 171 
 
 On the Marien Capelle, Carlfbad 172 
 
 On two Recumbent Monumental Figures of the 
 
 Fourteenth Century 173 
 
 The Lily 174 
 
 II Gelofo 175 
 
 The Two Roles 176 
 
 On the Death of a Child 177 
 
 Addrefled to a Lady who told me that, being ignorant 
 
 of Botany, I could not enjoy my Garden . . . 178 
 
 Home 179 
 
 The Chriftian Martyr in the Colifeum 180 
 
 On the Lofs of the " Avenger" 181 
 
 On a Lark which had efcaped from his Cage . . 182 
 
 Notes to the Hunting Songs 185 
 
 Notes to Mifcellaneous Verfes and Sonnets 201
 
 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 THE WOORE COUNTRY, 
 
 i. 
 
 NOW the funmine of fummer is over, 
 Once more we behold the glad pack ; 
 And Wickfted, appears at the cover, 
 
 Once more on old Mercury's back ; 
 And Wells in the faddle is feated, 
 
 Though with fcarce a whole bone in his fldn ; 
 His cheer by the echo repeated, 
 'Loo in ! little dearies ! 'loo in ! 
 
 ii. 
 
 How eagerly forward they rum, 
 
 In a moment how widely they fpread ; 
 Have at him there, Hotfpur ! hum ! hum ! 
 
 'Tis a find or I'll forfeit my head. 
 Faft flies the Fox away fafter 
 
 The hounds from the cover are freed ; 
 The horn to the mouth of the mafter, 
 
 The fpur to the flank of his fteed. 
 B
 
 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 in. 
 May the names I record in this metre 
 
 When my own is forgotten, furvive ; 
 From Tunftall comes one they call Peter, 
 
 And three from the Styche they call Clive. 
 There's Hammond, from Wiftafton bringing 
 
 All the news of the neighbouring (hire ; 
 Fitzherbert renown'd for his finging, 
 
 And Dorfold's invincible Squire ; 
 
 IV. 
 
 Few Sportfmen fo gallant, if any, 
 
 Did Woore ever fend to the chafe ; 
 Each dingle for him has a cranny, 
 
 Each river a fordable place ; 
 He knows the beft line from each cover, 
 
 He knows where to ftand for a ftart, 
 And long may he live to ride over 
 
 The country he loves in his heart. 
 
 V. 
 There's Henry, the purple-clad Vicar, 
 
 So earneftly plying the fteel ; 
 Conductor conducting him quicker, 
 
 Each prick from the fpur at his heel. 
 Were my life to depend on the wager, 
 
 I know not which brother I'd back ; 
 The Vicar, the Squire, or the Major, 
 
 The Purple, the Pink, or the Black.
 
 THE WOORE COUNTRr. 
 
 VI. 
 
 On a fteed thorough bred there's a bruifer, 
 
 Ne'er known o'er a country to flag ; 
 The name of the man is John Crewe, fir, 
 
 And Ajax the name of the nag ; 
 There's Aqualate's Baronet, Boughey, 
 
 Whofe eye ftill on Wickfted is caft ; 
 Should the Fox run till midnight, I know he 
 
 Will ftick by his friend to the laft. 
 
 VII. 
 
 There's Ford the fox- finder, how cheery 
 
 To ride by his fide in a run ; 
 Whether midnight or morn, never weary 
 
 Of revel, and frolic, and fun. 
 When they lay this good fellow the tomb in, 
 
 He mail not be mock'd with a buft, 
 But the favourite evergreen blooming 
 
 Shall fpring and o'erfhadow his duft. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 With Chorifter, Concord, and Chorus, 
 
 Now Chantrefs commences her fong, 
 Now Bellman goes jingling before us, 
 
 And Sinbad is failing along ; 
 Old Wells clofely after them cramming, 
 
 His foul quite abforb'd in the fun ; 
 Continues unconfcioufly damning 
 
 Their dear little hearts as they run.
 
 4 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 When the fcent on the fallow is failing, 
 
 Should a check from o'erriding enfue ; 
 Hear Charley the mifchief bewailing 
 
 With forrow fo touching and true ; 
 " Friends ! Gentlemen ! Foxhunters ! there now ! 
 
 You all on my ruin are bent ; 
 Hold hard, firs ! I alk, is it fair now ? 
 
 All over the line of the fcent." 
 
 x. 
 'Tis but for a moment we tarry, 
 
 One caft and they hit it anew ; 
 See ! fee ! what a head they now carry, 
 
 And fee ! now they run him in view ; 
 More eager for blood at each ftroke, 
 
 See Vengeance and Vulpicide rufh ; 
 Poor Renard, he thinks it no joke, 
 
 Hearing Joker fo clofe at his brufh. 
 
 XI. 
 
 See ! Soldier prepared for the brunt, 
 
 Hark ! Champion's challenge I hear ; 
 While Victory leads them in front, 
 
 And Havock purfues in the rear ; 
 Whoo-hoop ! there's an end of the fcurry, 
 
 Now Charley with might and with main, 
 Firft dances, then fhouts " worry, worry," 
 
 Then fhouts, and then dances again.
 
 THE WOORE COUNTRY. 5 
 
 XII. 
 
 A fig for your Leicefterfhire fwells ! 
 
 While Wickfted fuch fport can enfure ; 
 Long life to that varmint old Wells ! 
 
 Succefs to the country of Woore ! 
 Let Statefmen on politics parley, 
 
 Let Heroes go fight for renown, 
 While I've health to go hunting with Charley, 
 
 I envy no Monarch his crown.
 
 QU^ESITUM MERITIS. 
 
 i. 
 
 A CLUB of good fellows we meet once a year, 
 When the leaves of the foreft are yellow 
 
 and fear ; 
 
 By the motto that {nines on each glafs, it is fhown, 
 We pledge in our cups the deferving alone j 
 Our glafs a quaefitum, ourfelves Chefhire men, 
 May we fill it and drink it again and again. 
 
 ii. 
 
 We hold in abhorrence all vulpicide knaves, 
 
 With their gins, and their traps, and their velveteen 
 flaves ; 
 
 They may feed their fat pheafants, their foxes 
 deftroy, 
 
 And mar the prime fport they themfelves can't 
 enjoy ; 
 
 But fuch fportfmen as thefe we good fellows con- 
 demn, 
 
 And I vow we'll ne'er drink a quaefitum to them. 
 
 in. 
 
 That man of his wine is unworthy indeed, 
 Who grudges to mount a poor fellow in need j
 
 MERITIS. 7 
 
 Who keeps for nought elfe, fave to purge 'em 
 
 with balls, 
 
 Like a dog in a manger, his nags in their flails ; 
 Such niggards as thefe we good fellows condemn, 
 And I vow we'll ne'er drink a quasfitum to them. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Some riders there are, who, too jealous of place, 
 Will fling back a gate in their next neighbour's 
 
 face ; 
 
 Some never pull up when a friend gets a fall, 
 Some ride over friends, hounds, and horfes, and all ; 
 Such riders as thefe we good fellows condemn, 
 And I vow we'll ne'er drink a quaefitum to them. 
 
 v. 
 
 For coffee-houfe goflip fome hunters come out, 
 Of all matters prating, fave that they're about ; 
 From fcandal and cards they to politics roam, 
 They ride forty miles, head the fox, and go home ! 
 Such fportfmen as thefe we good fellows condemn, 
 And I vow we'll ne'er drink a quaefitum to them. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Since one fox on foot more diverfion will bring 
 Than twice twenty thoufand cock pheafants on 
 
 wing, 
 
 That man we all honour, whate'er be his rank, 
 Whofe heart heaves a figh when his gorfe is 
 
 drawn blank.
 
 8 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 Quaefitum ! Qusefitum ! fill up to the brim, 
 We'll drink, if we die for't, a bumper to him. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oh ! give me that man to whom nought comes 
 
 amifs, 
 
 One horfe or another, that country or this ; 
 Through falls and bad ftarts who undauntedly ftill 
 Rides up to this motto : " Be with 'em I will." 
 Quaefitum ! Quaefitum ! fill up to the brim, 
 We'll drink, if we die for't, a bumper to him. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Oh ! give me that man who can ride through a 
 
 run, 
 
 Nor engrofs to himfelf all the glory when done ; 
 Who calls not each horfe that o'ertakes him a 
 
 " fcrew," 
 
 Who loves a run beft when a friend fees it too ! 
 Ouaefitum ! Quaefitum ! fill up to the brim, 
 We'll drink, if we die for't, a bumper to him. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Oh ! give me that man who himfelf goes the pace, 
 And whofe table is free to all friends of the chafe ; 
 Should a fpirit fo choice in this wide world be feen, 
 He rides you may fwear in a collar of green ; 
 Quaefitum ! Quaefitum ! fill up to the brim, 
 We'll drink, if we die for't, a bumper to him.
 
 OLD OULTON LOWE. 
 
 i. 
 
 BAD luck to the Country ! the clock had 
 ftruck two, 
 
 We had found ne'er a fox in the gorfes we drew ; 
 When each heart felt a thrill at the found, 
 
 " Tally-Ho," 
 Once more a view hollo from old Oulton Lowe ! 
 
 ii. 
 
 Away like a whirlwind toward Calveley Hall, 
 For the firft thirty minutes Pug laugh'd at us all ; 
 Our nags cured of kicking, ourfelves of conceit, 
 Ere the laugh was with us, we were moft of us beat. 
 
 in. 
 
 The Willington mare, when fhe ftarted fo faft, 
 Ah ! we little thought then that the race was her 
 
 laft; 
 
 Accurft bethe ftake thatwas ftain'd with herblood ; 
 But why cry for fpilt milk ? May the next be as 
 
 good ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 'Twas a fight for us all, worth a million, I fwear, 
 To fee the Black Squire how he rode the black 
 mare ;
 
 io HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 The meed that he merits, the Mufe mall beftow, 
 Firft,foremofr,andfleeteft from old Oulton Lowe ! 
 
 v. 
 
 How Delamere went, it were ufelefs to tell, 
 To fay he was out, is to fay he went well ; 
 A rider fo fkilful ne'er buckled on fpur 
 To rule a ram horfe, or to make a fcrew ftir. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The odds are in fighting that Britain beats France ; 
 In the chafe, as in war, we muft all take our 
 
 chance. 
 
 Little Ireland kept up, like his namefake the nation, 
 By dint of" coercion" and great " agitation." 
 
 VII. 
 
 Now Victor and Bedford were feen in the van, 
 Cheer'd on by the Maiden who rides like a man, 
 He fcreech'd with delight as he wip'd his hot brow, 
 " Their briftles are up ! Sir ! they're hard at him 
 now." 
 
 VIII. 
 
 In the pride of his heart, then the Manager cried, 
 " Come along, little Rowley boy, why don't you 
 
 ride ?" 
 
 How he chuckled to fee the long tail in diftrefs, 
 As he gave her the go-by on bonny brown Befs.
 
 OLD OULTON LOWE. n 
 
 IX. 
 
 The Baron from Hanover hollow'd, " whoo-hoop," 
 While he thought on the Lion that eat him half up ; 
 Well pleas'd to have balk'd the wild beaft of his 
 
 dinner, 
 He was up in his ftirrups,and rode like a winner. 
 
 x. 
 
 Oh ! where 'mid the many found wanting in fpeed, 
 Oh ! where and oh ! where was the Wiftafton 
 
 fteed ? 
 Dead beat ! ftill his rider fo lick'd him and prick'd 
 
 him, 
 He thought (well he might) 'twas the Devil that 
 
 kick'd him. 
 
 XI. 
 
 The Ceftrian chefnut ftiow'd fymptoms of blood, 
 For it flow'd from his nofe ere he came to the 
 
 wood. 
 Where now is Dollgofh ? Where the racer from 
 
 Da'enham ? 
 Such faft ones as thefe ! what mifhap has o'er- 
 
 ta'en 'em ? 
 
 XII. 
 
 Two gentlemen met, both unhors'd, in a lane, 
 (Fox-hunting on foot is but labour in vain,)
 
 12 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 " Have you feen a brown horfe ?" " No, indeed, 
 
 Sir, but pray, 
 In the courfe of your ramble have you feen a 
 
 grey?" 
 
 XIII. 
 
 As a London coal-heaver might pick up a peer, 
 Whom he found in the ftreet, with his head 
 
 rather queer, 
 
 So Dobbin was loofed from his work at the plough, 
 To affift a proud hunter, ftuck faft in a flough. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 I advocate " movement" when fhown in a horfe, 
 But I love in my heart a " confervative" gorfe. 
 Long life to Sir Philip ! we'll drink ere we go, 
 Old times ! and old Chefhire ! and old Oulton 
 Lowe !
 
 THE OLD BROWN FOREST. 
 
 i. 
 
 BROWN Foreft of Mara ! whofe bounds 
 were of yore 
 From Kellfborrow's Caftle outftretch'd to the 
 
 fhore, 
 
 Our fields and our hamlets affbrefted then, 
 That thy beads might have covert unhous'd 
 were our men. 
 
 ii. 
 Our King the firft William, Hugh Lupus our 
 
 Earl, 
 
 Then poaching I ween was no fport for a churl ; 
 A noofe for his neck who a fnare fhould contrive, 
 Who fkinn'd a dead buck was himfelf flay'd alive ! 
 
 in. 
 
 Our Normandy nobles right dearly, I trow, 
 They loved in the foreft to bend the yew bow j 
 They wound their " recheat" and their " mort" 
 
 on the horn, 
 And they laugh'd the rude chafe of the Saxon to 
 
 fcorn.
 
 i 4 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 In right of his bugle and greyhounds, to feize 
 Waif, pannage, agiftment and wind fallen trees, 
 His knaves through our foreft Ralph Kingfley 
 
 difperfed, 
 Bow-bearer in chief to Earl Randle the firft. 
 
 v. 
 
 This horn the Grand Forefter wore at his fide 
 Whene'er his liege lord chofe a hunting to ride ; 
 By Sir Ralph and his heirs for a century blown, 
 It paired from their lips to the mouth of a Done. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Oh ! then the proud falcon, unloofed from the 
 
 glove, 
 
 Like her mafter below, play'd the tyrant above ; 
 While faintly, more faintly, were heard in the fky, 
 The filver-toned bells as ihe darted on high. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Then roufed from fweet fl umber, the ladie high- 
 born, 
 
 Her palfrey would mount at the found of the horn ; 
 Her palfrey uptofs'd his rich trappings in air, 
 And neigh'd with delight fuch a burden to bear. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Verfed in all woodcraft and proud of her fkDl, 
 Her charms in the foreft feem'd lovelier ftill ;
 
 THE OLD BROWN FOREST. 15 
 
 The Abbot rode forth from the abbey fo fair, 
 Nor loved the fport lefs when a bright eye was 
 there. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Thou Palatine prophet ! whofe fame I revere, 
 (Woe be to that bard who fpeaks ill of a feer) 
 Forewarn'd of thy fate, as our legends report, 
 Thou wert born in a foreft and " clemm'd" in a 
 court. 
 
 x. 
 
 Now goading thine oxen, now urging amain 
 Fierce monarchs to battle on Bofworth's red plain ; 
 " A foot with two heels, and a hand with three 
 
 thumbs !" 
 Good luck to the land when this prodigy comes ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Steeds fhall by hundreds feek mafters in vain, 
 Till under their bellies the girths rot in twain j" 
 'Twill need little fkill to interpret this dream, 
 When o'er the brown foreft we travel by fteam ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 Here hunted the Scot whom, too wife to fhow fight, 
 No war, fave the war of the woods, could excite; 
 His learning, they fay, did his valour furpafs, 
 Though a hero when armed with a couteau de 
 chafle.
 
 1 6 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Ah ! then came the days when to England's 
 
 difgrace, 
 
 A King was her quarry, and warfare her chafe ; 
 Old Noll for their huntfman ! a puritan pack ! 
 With pfalms on their tongues but with blood in 
 
 their track. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Then Charlie our King was reftor'd to his own, 
 And again the blythe horn in the foreft was blown ; 
 Steeds from the defert then crofs'd the blue wave 
 To contend on our turf for the prizes he gave. 
 
 xv. 
 
 Ere Bluecap and Wanton taught fox-hounds to 
 
 fkurry, 
 
 With mufic in plenty Oh ! where was the hurry? 
 When each nag wore a crupper, each Squire a 
 
 pigtail ; 
 When our toaft, " The Brown Foreft," was drunk 
 
 in brown ale. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The faft ones came next, with a wild fox in view, 
 " Ware hole !" was a caution then heeded by few ; 
 Oppos'd by no cops, by no fences confined, 
 O'er whinbufti and heather they fwept like the 
 wind.
 
 THE OLD BROWN FOREST. 17 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Behold ! in the foil of our foreft once more, 
 The fapling takes root as in ages of yore ; 
 The oak of old England with branches outfpread, 
 The pine tree above them uprearing its head. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Where, 'twixt the whalebones, the widow fat down, 
 Who forfook the Black foreft to dwell in the 
 
 Brown, 
 
 There, where the flock on fweet herbage once fed, 
 The blackcock takes wing, and the fox-cub is bred. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 This timber the ftorms of the ocean fhall weather, 
 And fail o'er the waves as we fail'do'er the heather; 
 Each plant of the foreft, when launched from the 
 
 flocks, 
 May it run down a foeman as we do a fox !
 
 i8 
 
 TARPORLEY HUNT, 1833. 
 
 i. 
 
 WHEN without verdure the woods in 
 November are, 
 
 Then to our collars their green is transferr'd ; 
 Racing and chafing the fports of each member are, 
 Come then to Tarporley booted and fpurr'd ; 
 Holding together, Sir, 
 Scorning the weather, Sir, 
 Like the good leather, Sir, 
 
 Which we put on : 
 Quaefitum mentis ! 
 Good fun how rare it is ! 
 I know not where it is, 
 Save at the Swan. 
 
 II. 
 Lo ! there's a Maiden whofe fweet difpofition is 
 
 Bent, like Diana's of old, on the chafe ; 
 Joy to that fportfman whofe horfe, in condition, is 
 Able and willing to go the beft pace ; 
 Racers are fweating now, 
 Owners are fretting now, 
 Stable boys betting now, 
 
 France ! ten to one : 
 Quasfitum meritis, &c.
 
 TARPORLET HUNT. 19 
 
 in. 
 
 Lo ! where the foreft turf covers gentility, 
 
 Foremoft with glory and hindmoft with mud ; 
 Now let the Prefident prove his ability, 
 
 Umpire of fpeed, whether cocktail or blood ; 
 Go-by and Adelaide, 
 Though they were faddled, 
 Led forth and ftraddled, 
 
 Judge there was none ! 
 Quaefitum mentis, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 How with due praife fhall I fing the Palatinate, 
 
 Ably with Prefidents filling our chair ; 
 The Greys and the Leghs, and the Brookes that 
 
 have fat in it, 
 
 Toafting our bumpers and drinking their fhare r 
 Each Squire and each Lord, Sir, 
 That meets at our board, Sir, 
 Were I to record, Sir, 
 
 I ne'er fhould have done : 
 Quaefitum mentis, &c. 
 
 v. 
 " Sume fuperbiam quzfitam meritis," 
 
 Shades of Sir Peter and Barry look down ; 
 Long may we good fellows, now a day rarities, 
 
 Live to make merry in Tarporley town
 
 20 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 Fox prefervation, 
 Throughout the whole nation, 
 Affords recreation, 
 
 Then drink it each man : 
 Quaefitum mentis ! 
 Good fun how rare it is ! 
 I know not where it is, 
 
 Save at the Swan.
 
 21 
 
 ON THE NEW KENNEL, ERECTED 
 
 ON DELAMERE FOREST. 
 
 MAY, 1834.. 
 
 I. 
 
 GREAT names in the Abbey are graven in 
 ftone, 
 
 Our kennel records them in good flefh and bone; 
 A Bedford, a Glojler, to life we reftore, 
 And Nelfon with Viftory couple once more, 
 
 Derry down, down, down, deny down. 
 
 n. 
 
 Were the laws of the kennel the laws of the land, 
 The fhilelah (hould drop from the Iriftiman's 
 
 hand ; 
 
 And journeymen tailors, on " ftriking" intent, 
 Should ftick to their ftitching like hounds to a 
 
 fcent.
 
 22 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 in. 
 
 Oh ! grant, ye reformers, who rule o'er us all, 
 That our kennels may fland though our colleges 
 
 fall; 
 
 Our pack from long trial we know to be good, 
 Grvy-hounds admitted might ruin the blood. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Fond parents may dote on their pride of thirteen, 
 Switch'd into Latin and breech'd in nankeen ! 
 A puppy juft enter'd a language can fpeak 
 More fweetly fonorous than Homer's own Greek. 
 
 v. 
 
 Oh ! clothe me in fcarlet ! a fpur on each heel ! 
 And guardfmen may cafe their whole bodies in 
 
 fteel; 
 
 Lancers in battle with lancers may tilt, 
 Mine be the warfare unfullied with guilt ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then lay this foundation-ftone folid and deep, 
 Let thefe walls be as ftrong as the walls of a Keep ; 
 May foxhunting flourifh as long as they laft, 
 And the fame of frefh Bluecaps ftill rival the paft ! 
 Deny down, down, down, derry down. 
 
 1834-
 
 2 3 
 
 HAWKSTONE BOW-MEETING. 
 
 " Celeri certare fagittd 
 Inijitat qui forte velint, et pr<emia ponit." 
 
 JEti. lib. 5. 
 
 I. 
 
 IT^AREWELL to the banks of the Weaver ! 
 J_ Farewell to the Dane and the Dee ! 
 The foreft, the moor, and the river, 
 
 The hills, and the " Woore Countrie ;" 
 My hunting whip hung in a corner, 
 
 My bridle and faddle below, 
 I call on the Mufe and adorn her 
 
 With baldrick, and quiver, and bow. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Bright Goddefs ! aflift me, recounting 
 
 The names of toxophilites here, 
 How Watkyn came down from the mountain, 
 
 And Mainwaring up from the Mere ; 
 Aflift me to fly with as many on 
 
 As the fteed of Parnaflus can take, 
 Price, Parker, Lloyd, Kynafton, Kenyon, 
 
 Dod, Cunliffe, Brooke, Owen and Drake.
 
 24 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 in. 
 
 To witnefs the feats of the Bowmen, 
 
 To ftare at the tent of the Bey, 
 Merrie Maidens and ale-drinking Yeomen 
 
 At Hawkftone aflemble to-day. 
 From the Lord to the loweft in ftation, 
 
 From the eaft of the (hire to the weft, 
 Salopia's whole population 
 
 Within the green valley compreft. 
 
 IV. 
 
 In the hues of the target appearing, 
 
 Now the bent of each archer is feen ; 
 The widow to fable adhering, 
 
 The lover forfaken to green ; 
 For gold its affection difplaying, 
 
 One (haft at the centre is fped ; 
 Another a love tale betraying, 
 
 Is aim'd with a blufti at the red. 
 
 v. 
 Pride pointing profanely at heaven, 
 
 Humility fweeping the ground, 
 The arrow of gluttony driven 
 
 Where ven'fon and flierry abound ! 
 At white fee the maiden unmated 
 
 The arrow of innocence draw, 
 While the maft of the matron is fated 
 
 To faften its point in thejtraw.
 
 HAWKSrONE EOW-MEETING. 25 
 
 VI. 
 
 Tell, fated with Geffler to grapple 
 
 Till the tyrannous Bailiff was flain, 
 Let Switzerland boaft of the apple 
 
 His arrow once fever'd in twain ; 
 We've an Eyton could prove to the Switzer, 
 
 Such a feat were again to be done, 
 Should our hoft and his lady think fit, Sir, 
 
 To lend us the head of their fon ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 The afh may be graceful and limber, 
 
 The oak may be fturdy and true ; 
 You may fearch, but in vain, for a timber 
 
 To rival the old Britim yew ! 
 You may roam through all lands, but there's no 
 land 
 
 Can fport fuch as Salop's afford, 
 And the Hill of all Hills is Sir Rowland ! 
 
 The hero of heroes my Lord ! 
 
 1835-
 
 26 
 
 CHESHIRE CHIVALRY. 
 
 ON the 23rd of December, 1837, the Chefhire Hounds 
 found a fox in the plantation adjoining Tilfton Lodge. 
 Running direftly to the houfe, he baffled for a time all 
 further purfuit by leaping through a window pane into the 
 dairy. When captured, he was turned out at Wardle 
 Gorfe, and after an unufually quick burft, in the courfe of 
 which he crofled two canals, was killed at Cholmondefton. 
 
 I. 
 
 T TNPUNISH'D fhall Reynard our dairies 
 \J attack, 
 
 His fate unrecorded in fong ? 
 Ah ! no , when the captive was loos'd from a fack, 
 There was not, fair milk-maid, a hound in the 
 
 pack, 
 But was bent on avenging thy wrong. 
 
 ii. 
 Would that thofe who imagine all chivalry o'er, 
 
 Had encounter'd our gallant array ; 
 Ne'er a hundred fuch knights, e'en in ages of yore, 
 Took the field in the caufe of one damfel before, 
 
 As were feen in the faddle that day.
 
 CHESHIRE CHIVALRY. 27 
 
 in. 
 
 Their high-mettled courage no dangers appal, 
 
 So keen was the ardour difplay'd ; 
 Some lofe a frail ftirrup, fome flounder, fome fall, 
 Some gallantly ftem the deep waters, and all 
 
 For the fake of the pretty milk-maid. 
 
 IV. 
 
 For thirty faft minutes Pug fled from his foes, 
 Nor a moment for breathing allow'd ; 
 
 When at Cholm'ftone the fkurry was brought to 
 a clofe, 
 
 The nags that had follow'd him needed repofe, 
 As their panting and fobbing avow'd. 
 
 v. 
 There, ftretch'd on the greenfward, lay GeofFry 
 
 the ftout, 
 
 His heels were upturn'd to the fky, 
 From each boot flow'd a ftream, as it were from 
 
 a fpout, 
 
 Away ftole the fox ere one half had run out, 
 And away with frefh vigour we fly ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Once more to the water, though harafs'd and beat, 
 The fox with a ftruggle fwam through ;
 
 28 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 Though the churn that he tainted fhall never be 
 
 fweet, 
 His heart's blood ere long fhall our vengeance 
 
 complete, 
 And the caitiff his villany rue. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Stout Geoffry declared he would witnefs the kill 
 
 Should he fwim in the faddle till dark ; 
 Six horfemen undauntedly followed him ftill, 
 Till the fate that awaited the fteed of Sir Phil 
 Put an end to this merry mud lark. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Back, back, the bold Baronet rolled from the more, 
 
 Immers'd overhead in the wave ; 
 The Tories 'gan think that the game was all o'er, 
 For their Member was miffing a minute or more 
 
 Ere he rofe from his watery grave. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Quoth Tollemache, more eager than all to make 
 
 fail, 
 
 (A foul that abhorreth reftraint,) 
 " Good doctor," quoth he, " fmce thy remedies 
 
 fail, 
 
 Since blifter, nor bleeding, nor pill-box avail, 
 Cold bathing may fuit my complaint."
 
 CHESHIRE CHIVALRY. 29 
 
 x. 
 
 When Williams paft o'er, at the burden they bore 
 
 The waters all trembled with awe ; 
 For the heaving canal, when it wafli'd him afhore, 
 Ne'er had felt fuch a fwell on its furface before, 
 As the Swell from the Leamington Spa. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Harry Brooke, as a bird o'er the billow would fkim, 
 Muft have flown to the furthermoft brink ; 
 
 For the moifture had reach'd neither garment nor 
 limb, 
 
 There was not a fpeck the boot polifli to dim, 
 Nor a mudftain to tarnifh the pink. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The fox looking back, faw them fathom the tide, 
 
 But was doom'd, ere they crofs'd it, to die ; 
 Who-whoop may found fweeter by far on that fide, 
 But, thinks I to myfelf, I've a twenty mile ride, 
 And as yet my good leather is dry. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Life-guardfman ! why hang down in forrow thy 
 
 head ? 
 
 Could our pack fuch a faft one outftrip ? 
 Looking down at the ditch where his mare lay 
 
 for dead, 
 
 " Pray, which way to Afton," he mournfully faid, 
 And uptwifted the hair of his lip.
 
 30 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Though of milk and of water I've made a long tale, 
 
 When a livelier liquor's difplay'd, 
 I've a toaft that will fuit either claret or ale, 
 Good fport to the Kennel ! fuccefs to the Pail ! 
 
 And a health to the pretty Milk-maid ' 
 
 1837.
 
 ON THE PICTURE OF THE 
 
 CHESHIRE HUNT. 
 PAINTED BY H. CALVERT. 
 
 t, 
 
 WHEN, our Kennel a coal-hole envelop'd in 
 fmoke, 
 Blood and bone fhall give way to hot water and 
 
 coke, 
 
 Make and fhape, pace and pedigree held as a jeft, 
 All the power of the ftud in a copper compreft. 
 
 II. 
 
 When the green collar fades, and good fellowfhip's 
 
 o'er, 
 
 Sir Peter and Barry remember'd no more ; 
 From her Tarporley perch the poor Swan fhall 
 
 drop down, 
 And her dying who-whoop fhall be heard o'er the 
 
 Town. 
 
 III. 
 
 Still diflant the day, yet in ages to come, 
 When the gorfe is uprooted, the foxhound is dumb,
 
 32 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 May verfe make immortal the deeds of the field, 
 And the fhape of each fteed be on canvas reveal'd. 
 
 IV. 
 
 In colours unfading, let Calvert defign 
 A field not unworthy a fport fo divine, 
 For when Joe was their huntfman, and Tom 
 
 their firft whip, 
 Who then could the chofen of Chefhire outftrip ? 
 
 v. 
 
 Ere the time-honour'd race of our fox hunters end, 
 The poor no protedtor, the farmer no friend, 
 Let the pencil be dipt in the hues of the Chafe, 
 And contentment and health be portray'd in each 
 face. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Let them fay when this canvas the paftime recalls, 
 Such once were the gentry that dwelt in our halls ; 
 Let them here view the face of an old Chefhire 
 
 Squire, 
 
 And regret the paft fport that enliven'd our Shire. 
 
 1840.
 
 33 
 
 THE BREECHES. 
 
 I. 
 
 WHEN I mention The Breeches," I feel 
 no remorfe, 
 
 For the ladies all know 'tis an evergreen gorfe ; 
 They are not of leather, they are not of plufti, 
 But expreffly cut out for Joe Maiden to brufh. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Good luck to the prentice by whom they were made ! 
 His (hears were a ploughfhare, his needle a fpade ; 
 May each landlord a pair of this pattern befpeak, 
 The Breeches that lafted us three days a week ! 
 
 in. 
 
 The fox is away and Squire Royds made it known, 
 Setting ftraitway to work at a pace of his own ; 
 Paft him fped Tollemache, as inftant in flight 
 As a ftar when it (hoots through the azure of night. 
 
 IV. 
 
 They who witnefs'd the pack as it fkirted the Spa, 
 By the head they then carried a ftruggle forefaw ;
 
 34 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 At their heels a white horfe with his head in the 
 
 air, 
 But his bridle was loofe, and his faddle was bare. 
 
 v. 
 
 May Peel, (near the Breechesatftartingo'erthrown, 
 Where he left the impreflion in mud of his own ; ) 
 When next he thinks fit this white horfe to 
 
 beftraddle, 
 See lefs of the Breeches and more of the faddle. 
 
 VI. 
 
 From Spurftow we pointed towards Bunbury 
 
 Church, 
 
 Some rounding that cover were left in the lurch ; 
 By Hurlefton we hurried, nor e'er tighten'd rein, 
 Till check'd for one moment in Baddiley lane. 
 
 VII. 
 
 When we pafs'd the old gorfe and the meadows 
 
 beneath, 
 When, acrofs the canal, we approach'd Afton 
 
 Heath, 
 
 There were riders who took to the water like rats, 
 There were fteeds without horfemen, and men 
 
 without hats.
 
 THE BREECHES. 35 
 
 VIII. 
 
 How many came down to the Edleftone brook, 
 How many came down, not to leap but to look ; 
 The fteeds that flood ftill with a ftitch in their fide, 
 Will remember the day when the Breeches were 
 tried. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The pack, prefling onwards, ftill merrily went, 
 Till at Dorfold they needed no longer a fcent ; 
 Man and maid ruftiing forth ftood aloft on the wall, 
 And uprais'd a view hollo that (hook the old hall. 
 
 x. 
 
 Too weak for the open, too hot for the drain, 
 He crofs'd and recrofs'd Ran'moor covers in vain ; 
 When he reach'd the Bull's wood, he lay down 
 
 in defpair, 
 And we hollow'd who-whoop, as they worried him 
 
 there. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Pufs in boots is a fable to children well known, 
 The dog in a doublet at Sandon is fhown, 
 Henceforth when a landlord good liquor can boaft, 
 Let the Fox and the Breeches be hung on his poft.
 
 36 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 XII. 
 
 From Vulpecide villains our foxes fecure, 
 May thefe evergreen Breeches till doomfday endure ! 
 Go ! all ye good fquires, if my ditty fhould pleafe, 
 Go cloathe your bare acres in Breeches like thefe. 
 
 1841.
 
 37 
 
 SONG, 
 
 Written for and fung by I. H. Smith Barry, Efq,, 
 
 owner of the Columbine yacht^ when 
 
 Prejident of the Torpor ley 
 
 Hunt Meeting, 
 
 1845- 
 
 i. 
 
 NOW riding fafe at anchor, idly floats the 
 Columbine, 
 
 And the perils of the Ocean in November I refign; 
 With other Meflmates round me, merry comrades 
 
 every one, 
 
 To-night I take command, boys, of the gallant 
 {hip the Swan. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Then up, boys ! up for adtion, with a hearty three 
 
 times three, 
 What tars are half fo jolly as the tars of Tarporley ? 
 
 n. 
 'Tis true, though ftrange, this gallant fhip in 
 
 water cannot fwim, 
 
 A fea of rofy wine, boys, is the fea fhe loves to fkim ; 
 The billows of that red fea are in bumpers tofs'd 
 
 about, 
 
 Our fpirits rifmg higher as the tide is running out! 
 
 Chorus.
 
 38 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 in. 
 Still Twinging at her moorings, with a cable round 
 
 her neck, 
 Though long as fummer lafteth all deferted is her 
 
 deck, 
 She feuds before the breezes of November faft 
 
 and free, 
 O ! ne'er may fhe be ftranded in the ftraits of 
 
 Tarporley. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 IV. 
 
 By adverfe gale or hurricane her fails are never rent, 
 Her canvas fwells with laughter, and her freight 
 
 is merriment ; 
 The lightning on her deck, boys, is the lightning 
 
 flafli of wit, 
 Loud cheers in thunder rolling till her very timbers 
 
 fplit ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 v. 
 We need not Archimedes with his fcrew on board 
 
 the Swan, 
 The fcrew that draws the cork, boys, is the fcrew 
 
 that drives us on, 
 And fhould we be becalm'd, boys, while giving 
 
 chafe to care, 
 When the brimming bowl is heated we have fteam 
 
 in plenty there. 
 
 Chorus.
 
 T4RPORLET HUNT MEETING. 39 
 
 VI. 
 
 No rocks have we to fplit on, no foes have we to 
 
 fight, 
 No dangers to alarm us, while we keep the 
 
 reckoning right ; 
 We fling the gold about, boys, though we never 
 
 heave the lead, 
 And long as we can raife the wind our courfe is 
 
 ftraight a-head. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The indexof ourcompafs is thebottle thatwe trowl, 
 To the chair again revolving like the needle to 
 
 the pole ; 
 
 The motto on our glafles is to us a fixed ftar, 
 We know while we can fee it, boys, exactly where 
 
 we are. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 To their fweethearts let our bachelors a fparkling 
 
 bumper fill, 
 To their wives let thofe who have 'em fill a fuller 
 
 bumper ftill ; 
 Oh ! never while we've health, boys, may we 
 
 quit this gallant fhip, 
 But every year, together here, enjoy this pleafure 
 
 trip. 
 
 Chorus.
 
 40 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Behind me ftands my anceftor, Sir Peter ftands 
 
 before, 
 Two pilots who have weather 'd many a ftormy 
 
 night of yore ; 
 So may our fons and grandfons, when we are dead 
 
 and gone, 
 Spend many a merry night, boys, in the cabin of 
 
 the Swan. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Then up, boys ! up for a&ion, with a hearty three 
 
 times three, 
 What tars are half fo jolly as the tars of Tarporley ? 
 
 1845.
 
 THE LITTLE RED ROVER. 
 
 T 
 
 i. 
 
 HE dewdrop is clinging 
 
 To whin-bufh and brake, 
 The fkylark is Tinging 
 
 " Merrie hunters, awake;" 
 Home to the cover, 
 
 Deferted by night, 
 The little Red Rover 
 
 Is bending his flight. 
 
 n. 
 Refounds the glad hollo ; 
 
 The pack fcxnts the prey ; 
 Man and horfe follow ; 
 
 Away ! Hark, away ! 
 Away ! never fearing, 
 
 Ne'er flacken your pace : 
 What mufic fo cheering 
 
 As that of the chafe ? 
 
 in. 
 The Rover ftill fpeeding, 
 
 Still diftant from home, 
 The spurr'd flank is bleeding, 
 
 And cover'd with foam ;
 
 42 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 Fleet limbs extended, 
 
 Roan, cheftnut, or grey, 
 The burft, ere 'tis ended, 
 Shall try them to-day ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Well known is yon cover, 
 
 And crag hanging o'er ; 
 The little Red Rover 
 
 Shall reach it no more ! 
 The foremoft hounds near him, 
 
 His ftrength 'gins to droop ; 
 In pieces they tear him, 
 
 Who-whoop ! Who-who-whoop !
 
 43 
 
 THE BLOOMING EVERGREEN. 
 
 ERE the adventurers, nicknamed Plantagenet, 
 Buckled the helm on, their foes to difmay, 
 They pluck'd a broom-fprig which they wore as 
 
 a badge in it, 
 
 Meaning thereby they would fweep them away. 
 Long the genifta (hall flourifti in ftory, 
 
 Green as the laurels their chivalry won ; 
 As the broom-fprig excited thofe heroes to glory, 
 May the gorfe-plant encourage our foxes to run. 
 
 II. 
 Held by Diana in due eftimation, 
 
 Bedeck with a gorfe-flower the goddefs's fhrine ; 
 Throughout the wide range of this blooming 
 creation, 
 
 It has but one rival, and that one the vine. 
 Pluck me then, Bacchus, a clufter and, fqueezing it, 
 
 Pour the red juice till the goblet o'erflows ; 
 Then in the joy of my heart, will I, feizing it, 
 
 Drink to the land where this Evergreen grows.
 
 44 
 
 SONG. 
 
 i. 
 
 STAGS in the foreft lie, hares in the valley-o ! 
 Web-footed otters are fpeared in the lochs; 
 Beafts of the chafe that are not worth a Tally-ho ! 
 All are furpafs'd by the gorfe-cover fox ! 
 Fifhing, though pleafant, 
 I fing not at prefent, 
 Nor fliooting the Pheafant, 
 
 Nor fighting of Cocks ; 
 Song (hall declare a way 
 How to drive care away, 
 Pain and defpair away, 
 Hunting the fox ! 
 
 n. 
 Bulls in gay Seville are led forth to (laughter, nor 
 
 Dames, in high rapture, the fpe&acle {hocks ; 
 Brighter in Britain the charms of each daughter, nor 
 Dreads the bright charmer to follow the fox. 
 Spain may delight in 
 A fport fo exciting ; 
 While 'ftead of bullfighting 
 
 We fatten the ox ; 
 Song mall declare a way, &c.
 
 SONG. 45 
 
 in. 
 
 England's green paftures are grazed in fecurity, 
 
 Thanks to the Saxon who cared for our flocks ! 
 He who reierving the fport for futurity, 
 Sweeping our wolves away left us the fox. 
 When joviality 
 Chafes formality. 
 When Hofpitality 
 
 Cellars unlocks ; 
 Song (hall declare a way 
 How to drive care away, 
 Pain and defpair away, 
 Hunting the fox !
 
 4 6 
 
 THE TANTIVY TROT. 
 
 HERE'S to the old ones, of four-in-hand fame, 
 Harrifon, Peyton, and Ward, Sir ; 
 Here's to the faft ones that after them came, 
 Ford and the Lancafhire Lord, Sir. 
 Let the fteam pot 
 Hifs till it's hot, 
 Give me the fpeed of the Tantivy Trot. 
 
 ii. 
 Here's to the team, Sir, all harnefs'd to ftart, 
 
 Brilliant in Brummagem leather ; 
 Here's to the waggoner, fkill'd in the art, 
 Coupling the cattle together. 
 
 Let the fteam pot, &c. 
 
 in. 
 
 Here's to the dear little damfels within, 
 Here's to the fwells on the top, Sir ; 
 Here's to the mufic in three feet of tin, 
 And here's to the tapering crop, Sir. 
 Let the fteam pot, &c.
 
 THE TANTIVY TROT. 47 
 
 IV. 
 
 Here's to the fhape that is fhown the near fide, 
 Here's to the blood on the off, Sir ; 
 
 Limbs with no check to their freedom of ftride ! 
 Wind without whiftle or cough, Sir ! 
 Let the (team pot, &c. 
 
 v. 
 Here's to the arm that can hold 'em when gone, 
 
 Still to a gallop inclined, Sir ; 
 Heads in the front with no bearing reins on ! 
 Tails with no cruppers behind, Sir ! 
 Let the fteam pot, &c. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Here's to the dragfmen I've dragg'd into fong, 
 Salisbury, Mountain, and Co., Sir; 
 
 Here's to the Cracknell who cracks them along 
 Five twenty- fives at a go ! Sir. 
 
 Let the fteam pot, &c. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Here's to Mac Adam the Mac of all Macs, 
 
 Here's to the road we ne'er tire on ; 
 Let me but roll o'er the granite he cracks, 
 Ride ye who like it on iron. 
 
 Let the fteam pot 
 Hifs till it's hot, 
 Give me the fpeed of the Tantivy Trot. 
 
 1834.
 
 4-8 
 
 THE SPECTRE STAG. 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 I. 
 
 A BARON lived in Germany, 
 Of old and noble race, 
 Whofe mind was wholly bent upon 
 The pleafures of the chafe. 
 
 II. 
 Thro' fummer's fultry dog-days, 
 
 Thro' winter's froft fevere, 
 This Baron's hunting feafon 
 
 Was twelve months in the year. 
 
 in. 
 
 From dawn till dark he hunted, 
 And the truth I grieve to fpeak, 
 
 The number of his hunting days 
 Was feven in the week. 
 
 IV. 
 
 No lands within his feignorie 
 Was ferf allowed to till ;
 
 THE SPECTRE STAG. 49 
 
 No corn-field in the valley, 
 No vineyard on the hill. 
 
 v. 
 What marvel hungry poachers, 
 
 When the Baron was a-bed, 
 Were bent on dealing venifon, 
 
 For very lack of bread ? 
 
 VI. 
 
 But woe that wretch betided, 
 
 Who in the queft was found ; 
 On the ftag he would have flaughter'd 
 
 Was his naked body bound. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Borne, like Mazeppa, headlong, 
 From the panting quarry's back 
 
 He faw the thirfty blood-hounds 
 Let loofe upon his track. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The pack, their prey o'ertaken, 
 
 On the mangled victims feaft ; 
 And, mix'd in one red {laughter, 
 
 Flows the blood of man and beaft. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The Baron thus his paftime 
 
 Purfued until he died ; 
 My tale mall tell how this befell 
 
 On the eve of Eaftertide. 
 E
 
 50 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 x. 
 
 The moon rofe o'er the foreft, 
 And the diftant village chime 
 
 Call'd fmners to confeflion, 
 And befpoke a hallow'd time. 
 
 XI. 
 
 When fuddenly a ftrange halloo 
 Was heard around to ring, 
 
 The Hunter feized his bow and placed 
 An arrow on the firing. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The cry, the cheer, the tumult 
 Of the chafe and then, difplay'd 
 
 By the pale light of the moonbeam, 
 Far adown the foreft-glade, 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Was feen, with brow full antler'd, 
 A Monfter Stag his back 
 
 Beftridden by a Huntfman, 
 Apparell'd all in black. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Their eyes unto their mafter 
 The crouching pack upraised, 
 
 Their mafter on his trembling fteed 
 At the fight was fore amazed.
 
 THE SPECTRE STAG. 51 
 
 xv. 
 " Ye curs," he cried, " why ftir ye not ? 
 
 A curfe upon the breed ! 
 And you, ye loitering varlets, 
 
 Where are ye in fuch need ?" 
 
 XVI. 
 
 To fummon then his followers, 
 
 He grafp'd his hunting horn, 
 Through the foreft's deep recefles 
 
 The echoing blaft was borne. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 But borne in vain his retinue 
 
 No note in anfwer gave ; 
 And the filence that fucceeded 
 
 Was the filence of the grave. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 His eye in terror glancing 
 
 From glade to diftant crag, 
 Nought faw he fave the fpelre 
 
 Goading on that grifly ftag. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The nearer it approach'd him, 
 
 The larger ftill it grew ; 
 Again he feized his hunting horn, 
 
 And his gafping breath he drew.
 
 52 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 xx. 
 
 Eye, cheek, and throat diftended, 
 Each fibre ftrain'd to blow, 
 
 His life-breath paft in that bugle blaft, 
 And he fell from the faddle bow. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Where the Baron's chafe was ended, 
 There they laid his bones to rot j 
 
 And his heirs, in after ages, 
 Built a Chapel on the fpot. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And ftill that note is heard to float 
 Through the woods at Eafter-tide ; 
 
 From hill to hill re-echoing ftill 
 The ftrain by which he died.
 
 53 
 
 THE LADIE OF THE CASTLE OF 
 WINDECK. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. 
 (ADELBERT CHAMISSO.) 
 
 " IT^ATED Horfeman ! onward fpeeding, 
 JL Hold ! thy panting courfer check ;- 
 Thee the Phantom Stag mifleading, 
 Hurrieth to the lone Windeck ! " 
 
 n. 
 
 Where two towers, their ftrength uprearing, 
 
 O'er a ruin'd gateway rife, 
 There the quarry difappearing 
 
 Vanifh'd from the Hunter's eyes. 
 
 in. 
 Lone and ftill ! no echo founded ; 
 
 Blazed the fun in noonday pride ; 
 Deep he drew his breath aftounded, 
 
 And his ftreaming forehead dried.
 
 54 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Precious wine lies hid below, in 
 
 Ruin'd cellar here, they fay ; 
 O ! that I, with cup o'erflowing, 
 Might my fcorching thirft allay ! " 
 
 v. 
 Scarcely by his parch'd lip fpoken 
 
 Winged words the wifh proclaim, 
 Ere from arch, with ivy broken, 
 
 Forth a fair hand-maiden came. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Light of ftep, a glorious maiden ! 
 
 Robe of fhining white me wore ; 
 With her keys her belt was laden, 
 
 Drinking horn in hand fhe bore. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Precious wine, from cup o'erflowing, 
 With an eager mouth he quaff'd ; 
 
 Fire he felt within him glowing, 
 As he drain'd the magic draught. 
 
 vni. 
 Eyes of deep blue, foftly glancing ! 
 
 Flowing locks of golden hue ! 
 He with clafped hands advancing 
 
 'Gan the Maiden's love to fue.
 
 THE LADIE OF THE CASTLE, &c. 55 
 
 IX. 
 
 Fraught with ftrange myfterious meaning, 
 
 Pitying look (he on him caft ; 
 Then, her form the ivy fcreening, 
 
 Swiftly, as fhe came, (he part. 
 
 x. 
 From that hour enchanted ever, 
 
 Spellbound to the Windeck lone, 
 From that hour he flumber'd never, 
 
 Reft, and peace, and hope unknown. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Night and day that ruin'd portal 
 
 Pale and wan he hovers nigh, 
 Though unlike to living mortal, 
 
 Still without the power to die. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Once again the maid, appearing, 
 
 After many a year had paft, 
 Preft his lip with kifs endearing, 
 
 Broke the fpell of life at laft.
 
 REICHBERGER THE ROBBER. 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. 
 
 (UHLAND.) 
 
 REICHBERGER a Robber bold, 
 Terror of the young and old, 
 Once at midnight lay in wait 
 Nigh an old Kirk's ruin'd gate j 
 
 Midnight paft, on plunder bent, 
 Up he rofe and forth he went, 
 He muft meet, ere break of day, 
 Merchants journeying on that way. 
 
 in. 
 
 As he wended on his track, 
 " Page," quoth he, " my gloves I lack, 
 Laid and left upon the bier, 
 Hie thee ftraight and bring them here."
 
 REICHBERGER THE ROBBER 57 
 
 IV. 
 
 Pale with terror back he came, 
 " Satan fend thy gloves to claim ! 
 On that bier there fits a fprite 
 Brittle yet my hairs with fright. 
 
 v. 
 
 " He had donn'd thofe gloves of thine, 
 On them glared his fiery eyne ; 
 Up and down he ftroked them ; ftill 
 All my limbs with terror thrill." 
 
 VI. 
 
 Swiftly back the Robber hied, 
 
 Stoutly he the Ghoft defied ; 
 
 Won his gloves back from the Sprite, 
 
 Vanquifh'd by his arm in fight. 
 
 i 
 
 VII.' 
 
 Fierce and covetous his eyne, 
 
 Spoke the Sprite, " The gloves are thine, 
 
 Lend them ftill, and let me wear 
 
 For a year that dainty pair." 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " Willingly, and prove," he faith, 
 " Whether Devil keepeth faith, 
 On thy fhrivell'd hands accurft, 
 Little fear that they will burft."
 
 58 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Through the wood his Page and he 
 On they gallop'd merrilie ; 
 When the cock morn's echo ftirr'd, 
 Tramp of coming fteeds they heard. 
 
 x. 
 
 Tramping down the foreft track, 
 Vizor'd riders all in black ! 
 Them with beating heart he eyed ; 
 Reining, as they pafs'd, afide. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Led by hindmoft of the train, 
 Came a fteed with bitted rein, 
 Saddle, which no rider bore, 
 With black houfings cover'd o'er ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 Up rode Reichberger to afk, 
 Who thofe Knights in mail and mafque ; 
 " Prythee, gentle Squire," he faid, 
 " Say for whom that horfe is led ?" 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " For the vafTal, true and tried, 
 Of my Lord, known far and wide ; 
 Death-ftruck, ere a year be gone, 
 Reichberger {hall ride thereon."
 
 REICHBERGER THE ROBBER. 59 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Thus he fpoke, then on he fped ; 
 To his Page the Robber faid ; 
 " From my faddle I defcend, 
 Soon my earthly race mall end. 
 
 xv. 
 
 " If my wild freed thou canft rein, 
 Targe and weighty fword fuftain, 
 Unto thee I them deliver, 
 Ufe them in God's fervice ever." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Then to Cloifter wended he, 
 " Holy Monk I may not be, 
 Abbot ! ftill my fin to hide 
 Let me here a layman bide." 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " By thy fpurs, thy craft is told, 
 Thou haft been a horfeman bold, 
 Therefore {halt thou tend the fteeds 
 Which our Convent ftable feeds." 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 On that year's laft day there came 
 Steed for Reichberger to tame, 
 Vicious eye and coal black mane, 
 He to back it ftrove in vain.
 
 60 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Him that fteed, with deadly blow 
 Striking to the heart, laid low ; 
 Foreft-ward then bent his flight, 
 Loft for aye to mortal fight. 
 
 xx. 
 
 Black fteed, led by mounted fprite, 
 Stood befide his grave at night ; 
 Riding gloves the moonbeams {how 
 Hanging at the faddle bow. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Reichberger from where he lay 
 Rofe and pluck'd the gloves away ; 
 On his graveftone firft he ftept, 
 And thence into the faddle leapt.
 
 6i 
 
 THE LADIE CUNIGUNDA OF 
 
 KYNEST. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. 
 (F. RUCKERT.) 
 
 i. 
 
 " TN my bower," faid Cunigunda, 
 _!_ " No longer will I bide, 
 
 I will ride forth to the hunting, 
 Right merrie 'tis to ride." 
 
 II. 
 
 Said {he, " None but a valiant Knight 
 
 Shall win me for a bride ; 
 Undaunted muft he venture 
 
 Round my caftle wall to ride." 
 
 in. 
 Then rode a noble Knight along 
 
 The Kyneft Caftle wall j 
 Her hand that Ladie raised not 
 
 At the noble Knight's downfall.
 
 62 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Upon that wall another Knight 
 
 Rode gallantly and well ; 
 That Ladie's heart mifgave her not 
 
 When horfe and rider fell. 
 
 v. 
 Another Knight, and once again 
 
 Another dared to try ; 
 And both, down rolling headlong, 
 
 She beheld with tearlefs eye. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thus years and years pafs'd on, until 
 
 No Knight again drew nigh j 
 None to ride again would venture, 
 For to venture was to die. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Cunigunda from the battlement 
 Look'd out both far and wide : 
 
 " I fit within my bower alone, 
 Will none attempt the ride ? 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " O ! is there none would win me now, 
 
 And wear me for a bride ? 
 Has chivalry turn'd recreant ? 
 
 Has knighthood loft its pride?*'
 
 THE LAD IE CUNIGUNDA. 63 
 
 IX. 
 
 Out fpake Thuringia's Landgrave, 
 
 (Count Adelbert he hight,) 
 " This Ladie fair is worthy well 
 
 The venture of a Knight." 
 
 x. 
 
 The Landgrave train'd his war-horfe 
 
 On the mountain fteep to go, 
 That the Ladie might not glory 
 
 In another overthrow. 
 
 XI. 
 
 " 'Tis I, O noble Ladie, 
 
 Who will on the venture fpeed." 
 
 Sadly, earneftly, me eyed him, 
 As he fprang upon his fteed. 
 
 XII. 
 
 She faw him mount and onward fpur, 
 
 She trembled and fhe figh'd : 
 " O woe is me that for my fake 
 
 He tries this fearful ride !" 
 
 XIII. 
 
 He rode along the caftle wall, 
 She turn'd her from the fight : 
 
 " Woe is me, he rideth ftraightway 
 To his grave, that noble Knight !"
 
 64 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 He rode along the caftle wall, 
 
 On dizzy rampart there ; 
 She dared not move a finger 
 
 Of her hand, that Ladie fair ! 
 
 xv. 
 He rode along the caftle wall, 
 
 O'er battlement and mound ; 
 She dared not breathe a whifper, 
 
 Left he totter at the found. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 He rode around the caftle wall, 
 
 And down again rode he : 
 " Now God be praifed that he hath fpared 
 
 Thy precious life to thee ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " May God be praifed thou didft not ride 
 
 A death-ride to thy grave ! 
 Now quit thy fteed and claim thy bride, 
 
 Thou worthy knight and brave ! " 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Then fpake the Landgrave, bending down 
 
 Unto the faddle bow : 
 " That knight can dare, O Ladie fair, 
 
 This morning's ride doth mow.
 
 THE LADIE CUNIGUNDA. 65 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Wait thou until another come 
 
 To do this feat for thee ; 
 I have a wife and children, 
 
 And my bride thou canft not be, 
 
 xx. 
 He fpurr'd his fteed and went his way, 
 
 Light hearted as he came ; 
 And as he went half dead was fhe 
 
 With anger and with (hame.
 
 66 
 
 THE DEAD HUNTER. 
 
 i. 
 
 HIS fire from the defert, his dam from the 
 north, 
 
 The pride of my ftable ftept gallantly forth, 
 One flip in his ftride as the fcurry he led, 
 And my fteed, ere his rivals o'ertook him, lay dead. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Poor fteed I mail thy limbs on the hunting field lie, 
 That his beak in thy carcafe the raven may dye ? 
 Is it thine the fad doom of thy race to fulfill, 
 Thy flefti to the cauldron, thy bones to the mill ? 
 
 ill. 
 
 Ah ! no. I beheld thee a foal yet unfhod, 
 Now race round the paddock, now roll on the fod ; 
 Where firft thy young hoof the green herbage 
 
 imprefs'd, 
 There, the (hoes on thy feet, will I lay thee to 
 
 reft!
 
 RIDING TO HOUNDS. 
 
 No inconfiderate rafhnefs, or vain appetite 
 Of falfe encountering formidable things ; 
 But a true fcience of diftinguifhing 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 AS when two dogs in furious combat clofe, 
 The bone forgotten whence the ftrifearofe, 
 Some village cur fecures the prize unfeen, 
 And, while the maftiffs battle, picks it clean ; 
 So when two horfemen, joftling fide by fide, 
 Heed not the pack, but at each other ride, 
 More glorious ftill the loftier fences deem, 
 And face the brook where wideft flows the ftream ; 
 One breathlefs fteed, when fpurs no more avail, 
 Rolls o'er the cop, and hitches on the rail ; 
 One floundering lies to watery ditch confign'd, 
 While laughing fchool-boy leaves them both behind, 
 Pricks on his pony 'till the brufh be won, 
 And bears away the honors of the run.
 
 68 
 
 SPORT IN THE HIGHLANDS. 
 
 WRITTEN AT TOLLY HOUSE IN 
 ROSS-SHIRE, 1845. 
 
 i. 
 
 UP in the morning ! the river runs merrily, 
 Clouds are above and the breezes blow- 
 cool., 
 
 Tie the choice fly now and cafting it warily, 
 Fim the dark ripple that curls o'er the pool ; 
 Steadily play with him, 
 On through the fpray with him, 
 Gaff, and away with him 
 On to the fhore ! 
 Paftime at Tolly now, 
 Oh ! it is jolly now, 
 Sad melancholy now 
 
 Haunts us no more !
 
 SPORT IN THE HIGHLANDS. 69 
 
 n. 
 
 Up in the morning ! young birds in full feather 
 
 now, 
 
 Brood above brood on the mountain fide lie ; 
 Setters well broken are ranging the heather now, 
 Bird after bird taking wing but to die ! 
 
 Groufe without number now 
 Gillies encumber now ; 
 Echo in flumber now 
 Refteth again. 
 Paftime at Tolly now, 
 Oh ! it is jolly now, 
 No melancholy now, 
 
 Sorrow, or pain. 
 
 in. 
 
 Up ! up ! at peep-o-day, clad for a tuflle now ! 
 Keen eyes have mark'd the wild Hart on the 
 
 hill; 
 Toil for the Stalker ! wind, finew and mufcle, 
 
 now 
 
 All will be needed, ere tefting his fldll ! 
 Gillies now frolicking, 
 Roaring and rollicking, 
 Hey ! for a grollocking, 
 Rip up the deer, 
 Paftime at Tolly now, 
 Oh ! it is jolly now, 
 No melancholy now 
 
 Haunteth us here.
 
 70 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Up ! up ! at peep-o-day ! what may your pleafure 
 
 be? 
 
 Black-cock or ptarmigan, roebuck or hare ? 
 Bright with delight let each moment of leifure be, 
 Left in the lowlands, a fig for dull Care ! 
 
 Wood, ftream, and heather now, 
 Yielding together now, 
 Sport for all weather now, 
 
 Up in the morn ! 
 Paftime at Tolly now, 
 Oh ! it is jolly now, 
 Sad melancholy, now 
 
 Laugh her to fcorn !
 
 THE BALL AND THE BATTUE. 
 
 L 
 
 i. 
 
 AY by the filk: waiftcoat, fo gaudy and green ! 
 And clothe me this morning in black 
 velveteen ; 
 
 A kerchief of blue, 
 And a waterproof fhoe, 
 For now the Ball's over I'll join the Battue ! 
 
 ii. 
 
 Let the mot-belt of leather replace the gold chain, 
 The ramrod be handled inftead of the cane ; 
 A pancake fo flat, 
 Was my ball- going hat, 
 But a dumpling to ihoot in is better than that ! 
 
 in. 
 
 My fiddle a Manton, a tune I'll prepare 
 Which (hall teach the cock-pheafants to reel in 
 the air ; 
 
 While fnipes as they fly 
 Pirouette in the fky, 
 And rabbits and hares in the gallopade die.
 
 72 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Once more might I view thee, fweet partner ! " 
 
 " Mark hare ! 
 
 She is gone down the middle and up again there" 
 " That hand might I kifs, 
 Mark cock ! did I mifs ? 
 Ye Gods ! who could flioot with a weapon 
 like this ? 
 
 v. 
 " I've a thorn in my breaft which deprives me of 
 
 fpeech ; 
 
 Ah me ! but what's this that I feel in my breech ? 
 Overwhelm'd, unaware, 
 In the depth of defpair 
 Ods bobs ! over head in a pit, I declare !" 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thus a glance may from flaughter whole covers 
 
 reclaim, 
 
 Thus oft the fair fex prove prefervers of game; 
 For when the heart aches, 
 Then alas ! the hand makes, 
 And fighs beget curfes, and curfes miftakes. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oh ! ye who encourage the long-feather'd breed ! 
 To the Ball overnight let the Battue fucceed ; 
 Cock-pheafants all, 
 Be the {hot large or fmall, 
 May in fafety crow over it after a Ball.
 
 73 
 
 THE SAWYER. 
 
 The imaginary cataftrophe, which is the fubjecEr. of the 
 following lines, originated in the warning given by one of 
 our party to the Faftor at Abergeldie, that, if he perfifted 
 in falling timber during the term of our leafe, he muft hold 
 himielf refponiible mould any one " Shoot a Sawyer." 
 
 I. 
 
 NOW Albergeldie gillies, as they range our 
 foreft-ground, 
 See fawing here, fee fawing there, fee fawpits all 
 
 around ; 
 In fear and dread, as on they tread no whifkey 
 
 dare they touch, 
 
 No ! not a drop, left, neck and crop, they take a 
 drop too much. 
 
 ii. 
 
 " Aim ftraight to-day, my comrades, 'twill be 
 
 truly a dear hit 
 If, (hooting deer in the foreft here, manflaughter 
 
 you commit ; 
 If feller, fell'd, mould in the acT: of ftriking be down 
 
 ftruck, 
 Or Sawyer kick the bucket here, miftaken for a 
 
 Buck."
 
 74 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 in. 
 Vain words ! forth came a bounding flag, his 
 
 antler'd head on high, 
 And, caring not a whittle for the balls that whittled 
 
 by, 
 
 Away, alive and kicking, to the diftant mountain 
 fped ; 
 
 Though de'il a bit the deer was hit, the deal- 
 cutter was dead. 
 
 IV. 
 
 His fkull was crack'd, his only wage that day was 
 
 half-a-crown, 
 He was cutting up a billet when the bullet cut 
 
 him down ; 
 Many thoufand feet of timber had that Sawyer rent 
 
 in twain, 
 Now himfelf was fplit afunder, very much againft 
 
 the grain. 
 
 v. 
 We needed not the Sexton with his pickaxe and 
 
 his fpade, 
 In the fawpit which himfelf had dug his grave was 
 
 ready made ; 
 Top Sawyer though he had been, to the bottom 
 
 he was thruft, 
 And we binn'd him like a bottle of old Sherry in 
 
 fawduft.
 
 THE SAWYER. 75 
 
 VI. 
 
 Full many a railway fleeper had he made fince 
 
 peep of day, 
 
 Ere night himfelf a fleeper in his narrow bed he lay; 
 No tear-drop unavailingly we fhed upon the fpot, 
 But we fprinlded him with whifkey to preferve 
 
 him from dry rot. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oh no ! we never mention him, that fhot we 
 
 never own, 
 We book'd him in the game book as an u animal 
 
 unknown ! " 
 We know not how the wife and beams without 
 
 his board fubfift, 
 We only know we hit him, and he has not fmce 
 
 been mifs'd.
 
 7 6 
 
 THE FOX AND THE BRAMBLES. 
 
 A FABLE. 
 
 BEFORE the pack for many a mile 
 A fox had fped in gallant ftyle ; 
 But gafping with fatigue at laft, 
 The clamorous hounds approach'd him faft ; 
 Though painful now the toilfome race, 
 With draggled brufh and ftealthy pace 
 Still onward for his life he flies 
 He nears the wood before him lies 
 A tangled mafs of thorn and bramble ; 
 In vain beneath he tries to fcramble, 
 So fpringing, heedlefs of his fkin, 
 With defperate bound he leaps within. 
 The prickly thicket o'er him clofes ; 
 To him it feem'd a bed of rofes, 
 As there he lay and heard around 
 The baying of the baffled hound. 
 Within that bum, his fears allay'd, 
 He many a fage refle&ion made ; 
 " 'Tis true, whene'er I ftir," he cried, 
 " The brambles wound my bleeding fide, 
 " But he who feeks may feek in vain
 
 THE FOX AND THE BRAMBLES. 77 
 
 41 For perfe& blifs ; then why complain ? 
 " Since, mingled in one current, flow 
 " Both good and evil, joy and woe ; 
 " Oh ! let me ftill with patience bear 
 " The evil, for the good that's there. 
 " Howe'er unpleafant this retreat, 
 " Yet every bitter has its fweet; 
 " The brambles pierce my fkin, no doubt, 
 " The hounds had torn my entrails out." 
 
 Good farmers ! read, nor take amifs, 
 The moral which I draw from this ; 
 Grieve not o'er gap or broken gate ; 
 The damage fmall, the profit great j 
 The love of fport to home brings down 
 Your Landlord from the fmoky town, 
 To dwell and fpend his rents among 
 The tenantry, from whom they fprung. 
 Though vainly, when he leads the chafe, 
 His willing fteed urged on apace, 
 When fcent is good, and hounds are fleet, 
 Though vainly then you ftiout, " Ware wheat !" 
 That fteed, perchance, by you was bred, 
 And your's the corn on which he's fed ; 
 Ah ! then, reftrain your rifing ire, 
 Nor rafbly damn the Hunting Squire.
 
 THE EARTH STOPPER. 
 
 i. 
 
 TERROR of henroofts ! now from hollow 
 fand-earth, 
 
 Safely at nightfall, round the quiet farmftead, 
 Reynard on tiptoe, meditating plunder, 
 Warily prowleth. 
 
 II. 
 
 Roufe thee ! Earth ftopper ! roufe thee from thy 
 
 {lumber ! 
 
 Get thee thy worfted hofe and winter coat on, 
 While the good houfewife, crawling from her 
 
 blanket, 
 
 Lights thee thy lantern. 
 
 ill. 
 
 Clad for thy midnight filent occupation, 
 Mount thy old doghorfe, fpade upon thy (boulder, 
 Wiry hair'd Vixen, wherefoe'er thou wendeft, 
 'Ready to follow.
 
 THE EARTH STOPPER. 79 
 
 IV. 
 
 Though the chill rain drops, driven by the north 
 
 wind, 
 Pelt thy old jacket, foaking through and through 
 
 thee, 
 Though thy worn hackney, blind and broken 
 
 winded, 
 
 Hobble on three legs ; 
 
 v. 
 
 Finifti thy night-work well, or woe betide thee ! 
 If on the morrow irritated Huntfman, 
 Back'd by a hundred followers in fcarlet, 
 
 Find the earths open !
 
 8o 
 
 TARWOOD. 
 A RUN WITH THE HEYTHROP. 
 
 HE waited not he was not found 
 No warning note from eager hound. 
 But echo of the diftant horn, 
 From outfkirts of the covert borne, 
 Where Jack the Whip in ambufh lay, 
 Proclaim'd that he was gone away. 
 
 Away ! ere yet that blaft was blown, 
 The fox had o'er the meadow flown ; 
 Away ! away ! his flight he took, 
 Straight pointing for the Windrufh brook ! 
 
 The Miller, when he heard the pack, 
 Stood tiptoe on his loaded fack, 
 He view'd the fox acrofs the flat, 
 And, needlefs fignal, waved his hat ; 
 He faw him clear with eafy ftride 
 The ftream by which the mill was plied ; 
 Like phantom fox he feem'd to fly, 
 With fpeed unearthly flitting by.
 
 rARWOOD. 8 1 
 
 The road that leads to Witney town 
 He travell'd neither up nor down ; 
 But ftraight away, like arrow fped 
 From cloth yard bow, he (hot a-head. 
 Now Cokethorpe on his left he paft, 
 Now Ducklington behind him caft, 
 Now by Bampton, now by Lew, 
 Now by Clanfield, on he flew ; 
 At Grafton now his courfe inclined, 
 And Kelmfcote now is left behind ! 
 
 Where waters of the Ifis lave 
 The meadows with their claflic wave, 
 O'er thofe wide meadows fpeeding on, 
 He near'd the bridgeway of St. John ; 
 He paufed a moment on the bank, 
 His footfteps in the ripple fank, 
 He felt how cold, he faw how ftrong 
 The rapid river roll'd along ; 
 Then turn'd away, as if to fay, 
 " All thofe who like to crofs it may." 
 
 The Huntfman, though he view'd him back, 
 View'd him too late to turn the pack, 
 Which o'er the tainted meadow preft, 
 And reach'd the river all abreaft ; 
 In with one plunge, one billowy fplafh, 
 In altogether in they dafh, 
 Together ftem the wintry tide, 
 Then make themfelves on t'other fide !
 
 82 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 " Hark, hollo back ! " that loud halloo 
 Then eager, and more eager grew, 
 Till every hound, recrofling o'er, 
 Stoop'd forward to the fcent once more j 
 Nor further aid, throughout the day, 
 From Huntfman or from Whip had they. 
 
 Away ! away ! uncheck'd in pace, 
 O'er grafs and fallow fwept the chace ; 
 To hounds, to horfes, or to men, 
 No child's play was the ftruggle then ; 
 A trefpafler on Milward's ground, 
 He climb'd the pale that fenced it round ; 
 Then clofe by Little Hemel fped, 
 To Fairford pointing ftraight a-head, 
 Though now, the pack approaching nigh, 
 He heard his death-note in the cry ; 
 They view'd him, and now feem'd their race, 
 The very lightning of the chace ! 
 The fox had reach'd the Southropp lane, 
 He ftrove to crofs it, but in vain, 
 The pack roll'd o'er him in his ftride, 
 And onward ftruggling ftill he died. 
 
 This gallant fox, in Tarwood found, 
 Had crofs'd full twenty miles of ground ; 
 Had fought in cover, left or right, 
 No {belter to conceal his flight ; 
 But nigh two hours the open kept, 
 As ftout a fox as ever ftept !
 
 TARWOOD. 83 
 
 That morning, in the faddle fet, 
 
 A hundred men at Tarwood met ; 
 
 The eager fteeds which they beftrode 
 
 Paced, to and fro, the Witney road, 
 
 For hard as iron {hoe that trod 
 
 Its furface, the unyielding fod ; 
 
 They champ'd the bit and twitch'd the rein, 
 
 And paw'd the frozen earth in vain ; 
 
 Impatient with fleet hoof to fcour 
 
 The vale, each minute feem'd an hour, 
 
 Till mid-day fun had made the ground 
 
 Fit treading for the foot of hound ; 
 
 Still Rumour fays of that array 
 
 Scarce ten lived fairly through the day. 
 
 Ah ! how (hall I in fono- declare 
 
 O 
 
 The riders who were foremoft there ? 
 A fit excufe how (hall I find 
 For every rider left behind ? 
 
 Though Cokethorpe feem one open plain, 
 'Tis flafti'd and fluiced with many a drain, 
 And he who clears thofe ditches wide 
 Muft needs a goodly fteed beftride. 
 From Bampton to the river's bounds 
 The race was run o'er pafture grounds; 
 Yet many a horfe of blood and bone 
 Was heard to crofs it with a groan ; 
 For blackthorns ftiff the fields divide 
 With watery ditch on either fide,
 
 84 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 By Lechlade's village fences rife 
 Of every fort and every fize, 
 And frequent there the grievous fall 
 O'er flippery bank and crumbling wall ; 
 Some planted deep in cornfield ftand, 
 A fix'd incumbrance on the land ! 
 While others prove o'er poft and rail 
 The merits of the fliding fcale. 
 
 Ah ! much it grieves the Mufe to tell 
 At Clanfield how Valentia fell ; 
 He went, they fay, like one bewitch'd, 
 Till headlong from the faddle pitch'd ; 
 There, recklefs of the pain, he figh'd 
 To think he might not onward ride ; 
 Though fallen from his pride of place, 
 His heart was following ftill the chace ; 
 He bade his many friends forbear 
 The proffer'd aid, nor tarry there j 
 " Oh ! heed me not, but ride away ! 
 The Tarwood fox muft die to-day ! " 
 
 Nor fell Valentia there alone, 
 There too in mid career was thrown 
 The Huntfman in the breaftplate fwung 
 His heels his body earthward hung ; 
 With many a tug at neck and mane, 
 Struggling he reach' d his feat again ; 
 Once more upon the back of Spangle, 
 His head and heels at proper angle,
 
 TARWOOD. 85 
 
 (Poor Spangle in a piteous plight,) 
 He loolc'd around him, bolt upright, 
 Nor near nor far could fuccour fee, 
 Where can the faithlefs Juliet be ? 
 He would have given half his wage 
 Juft then to fee her on the ftage ; 
 The pack thofe meads by Ifis bound 
 Had reach'd ere Jem his Juliet found ; 
 Well thence with fuch a prompter's aid, 
 Till Reynard's death her part fhe play'd. 
 
 There Ifaac from the chafe withdrew, 
 (A horfe is Ifaac, not a Jew,) 
 Outftretch'd his legs, and fhook his back, 
 Right glad to be relieved of Jack ; 
 And Jack, right glad his back to quit, 
 Gave Beatrice a benefit. 
 
 Moifture and mud the " Fungus" fuit, 
 In boggy ditch he, taking root, 
 For minutes ten or there about, 
 Stood planted, till they pluck'd him out. 
 By application of fpur rowel 
 Charles rubb'd him dry without a towel. 
 
 Say, as the pack by Kelmfcote fped, 
 Say who thofe horfemen cloath'd in red ? 
 Spectators of the chafe below, 
 Themfelves no fign of movement (how ; 
 
 O ' 
 
 No wonder they were all aghaft
 
 86 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 To fee the pace at which it paft ; 
 
 The " White Horfe Vale" well known to Fame 
 
 The pack to which it gives a name ; 
 
 And there they flood as if fpell bound, 
 
 Their morning fox as yet unfound ; 
 
 Borne from that wood, their Huntfman's cheer 
 
 Drew many a Tarwood ftraggler near, 
 
 And he who felt the pace too hot, 
 
 There gladly fought a refting fpot ; 
 
 Himfelf of that White Horfe availing, 
 
 When confcious that his own was failing. 
 
 Thus fhips, when they no more can bide 
 The fury of the wind and tide, 
 If chance fome tranquil port they fpy, 
 Where veflels fafely fhelter'd lie, 
 There feek a refuge from the gale, 
 Caft anchor, and let down the fail. 
 
 The fpeed of horfe, the pluck of man, 
 They needed both, who led the van ; 
 This Holmes can tell, who through the day 
 Was ever foremoft in the fray ; 
 And Holloway, with beft intent, 
 Still fhivering timber as he went ; 
 And Williams, clinging to the pack 
 As if the League were at his back ; 
 And Tollit, ready ftill to fell 
 The nag that carried him fo well.
 
 TARWOOD. 87 
 
 A pretty fight at firft to fee 
 Young Pretyman on Modefty ! 
 But Pretyman went on fo faft, 
 That Modefty took fright at laft ; 
 So bent was (he to fhun difgrace, 
 That in the brook {he hid her face ; 
 So bamful, that to drag her out 
 They fetch'd a team and tackle ftout. 
 
 When younger men of lighter weight 
 Some tale of future fport relate, 
 Let Whippy (how the brum he won, 
 And tell them of the Tarwood run ; 
 While Rival's portrait, on the wall, 
 Shall oft to memory recall 
 The gallant fox, the burning fcent, 
 The leaps they leapt, the pace they went ; 
 How Whlmfey led the pack at firft ; 
 When Reynard from the woodfide burft, 
 How Pamela, a puppy hound, 
 Firft feized him, ftruggling on the ground ; 
 How Prudence fhunn'd the taint of hare, 
 Taught young in life to have a care ; 
 How Alderman, a foxhound ftaunch, 
 Work'd well upon an empty paunch ; 
 How Squires were, following thee, upfet, 
 Right honourable Baronet ; 
 How, as the pack by Lechlade flew, 
 Where clofe and thick the fences grew, 
 Three Bitches led the tuneful throng,
 
 88 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 All worthy of a place in fong ; 
 Old Fairplay^ ne'er at fkirting caught, 
 And Penjive fpeeding quick as thought ; 
 While Handfome proved the adage true, 
 They handfome are that handfome do ' 
 
 Then long may courteous Redefdale live ! 
 And oft his pack fuch gallops give ! 
 Should fox again fo ftoutly run, 
 May Lbe there and fee the fun ! 
 
 1845.
 
 8 9 
 
 EPITAPH 
 
 ON the Duke of Wellington's Charger " Copenhagen," 
 fo named from the circumftance of his having been foaled 
 in the year of that battle. He was buried at Strathfieldfaye, 
 February, 1836. 
 
 WITH years o'erburden'd, funk the battle 
 fteed ; 
 
 War's funeral honours to his duft decreed ; 
 A foal when Cathcart overpower'd the Dane, 
 And Gambler's fleet defpoil'd the northern main, 
 'Twas his to tread the Belgian field, and bear 
 A mightier chief to prouder triumphs there ! 
 Let Strathfieldfaye to wondering patriots tell 
 How Wellefley wept when " Copenhagen" fell. 
 
 CHARADE. 
 
 THE Squire, on his Grey, 
 Has been hunting all day, 
 So at night let him drown his fatigue in the bowl ; 
 But ere quenching his thirft, 
 To get rid of my firft, 
 
 Let him call for myfecond to bring him my 
 whole.
 
 INSCRIPTION 
 
 ON A GARDEN SEAT FORMED FROM THE BONES 
 OF AN OLD RACER. 
 
 i. 
 
 STILL, tho' bereft of fpeed, 
 Compell'd to carry weight ; 
 Alas ! unhappy fteed, 
 
 Death cannot change thy fate. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Upon the turf ftill ridden, 
 
 Denied a grave below, 
 Thy weary bones forbidden 
 
 The reft that they beftow.
 
 9 1 
 
 FARMER DOBBIN. 
 A DAY wi' THE CHESHUR Fox DUGS. 
 
 mon, it's welly milkin toim, where 
 ever 'aft 'ee bin ? 
 Thear's flutch upo' thoi coat, oi fee, and blood 
 
 upo' thoi chin ;" 
 " Oiv bin to fee the gentlefolk o' Chemur roid 
 
 a run, 
 
 Owd wench ; oiv been a hunting, an oiv feen 
 fome rattling fun. 
 
 " Th' owd mare was i' the fmithy when the 
 
 huntfman, he trots through, 
 Black Bill agate o' ammering the laft nail in her 
 
 flioe ; 
 The cuvver laid fo wheam loik, and fo jovial foin 
 
 the day, 
 Says I, ' Owd mare, we'll tak a fling and fee'em 
 
 go away.' 
 
 " When up, an oi'd got (hut ov aw the hackney 
 
 pads an traps, 
 Orfe dealers an orfe jockey lads, an fuch loik 
 
 fwaggering chaps,
 
 92 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 Then what a power o' gentlefolk did oi fet oies 
 
 upon ! 
 A reining in their hunters, aw blood orfes every 
 
 one ! 
 
 " They'd aw got bookfkin leathers on, a fitten 
 
 'em fo toight, 
 As roind an plump as turmits be, an juft about as 
 
 whoit ; 
 Their fpurs wor maid o' filler, and their buttons 
 
 maid o' brafs, 
 Their coats wor red as carrots an their collurs 
 
 green as grafs. 
 
 " A varment looking gemman on a woiry tit I 
 
 feed, 
 An another clofe befoid him, fitting noble on his 
 
 fteed; 
 They ca' them both owd codgers, but as frefh as 
 
 paint they look, 
 John Glegg, Efquoir, o' Withington, an bowd 
 
 Sir Richard Brooke. 
 
 " I feed Squoir Geffrey Shakerley, the beft un o' 
 
 that breed, 
 His fmoiling feace tould plainly how the fport wi' 
 
 him agreed : 
 
 I feed the 'Arl ov Grofvenor, a loildy lad to roid, 
 I feed a foight worth aw the reft, his farencly 
 
 young broid.
 
 FARMER DOBBIN. 93 
 
 " Zur Umferry de Trafford an the Squoir ov 
 
 Arley Haw, 
 His pocket full o' rigmarole, a rhoiming on 'em 
 
 aw; 
 Two Members for the Cointy, both aloik ca'd 
 
 Egerton ; 
 Squoir Henry Brooks and Tummus Brooks, they'd 
 
 aw green collurs on. 
 
 " Eh ! what a man be Dixon John, ov Aftle 
 
 Haw, Efquoir, 
 You wudna foind, and meafure him, his marrow 
 
 in the fhoir ; 
 Squoir Wilbraham o' the Foreft, who deloighteth 
 
 in the fport, 
 And noicely clad the Capefthorne lad, Squire 
 
 Arthur Davenport. 
 
 " The Honerable Lazzles, who from forrin parts 
 
 be cum, 
 An a chip of owd Lord Delamere, the Honerable 
 
 Turn ; 
 Squoir Fox an Booth an Worthington, Squoir 
 
 Mafley an Squoir Harne, 
 An many more big fportfmen, but their neames 
 
 I didna larn. 
 
 " I feed that great commander in the faddle, 
 
 Captain Whoit, 
 An the pack as thrung'd about him was indeed 
 
 a gradely foight ;
 
 94 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 The dugs look'd foin as fatin, an himfel look'd 
 
 hard as nails, 
 An he giv the fwells a caution not to roid upo' 
 
 their tails. 
 
 " Says he, < Yung men o' Monchefter an 
 
 Livverpoo, cum near, 
 Oiv juft a word, a warning word, to whifper in 
 
 your ear, 
 When, flatting from the cuvver foid, ye fee bowd 
 
 Reynard burft, 
 We canna 'ave no 'unting if the gemmen go it 
 
 firft.' 
 
 " Tom Ranee has got a fingle oie, wurth many 
 
 another's two, 
 He held his cap abuv his yed to mow he'd had 
 
 a view ; 
 Tom's voice was loik th' owd raven's when he 
 
 fkroik'd out Tally ho ! ' 
 For when the fox had feen Tom's feace he thoght 
 
 it toim to go. 
 
 " Eh moy ! a pratty jingle then went ringin 
 
 through the fkoy, 
 Furft Victory, then Villager begun the merry 
 
 croy, 
 Then every maith was open from the oud'un to 
 
 the pup, 
 An aw the pack together took the fwellin chorus up.
 
 FARMER DOBBIN. 95 
 
 " Eh moy ! a pratty fkouver then was kick'd up 
 
 in the vale, 
 They fkim'd acrofs the running brook, they topp'd 
 
 the poft an rail, 
 They didna ftop for razzur cop, but play'd at 
 
 touch an go, 
 An them as mifs'd a footin there, lay doubled up 
 
 below. 
 
 " I feed the 'ounds a crofting Farmer Flareup's 
 
 boundary loin, 
 Whofe daughter plays the peany and drinks whoit 
 
 (berry woin, 
 Gowd rings upon her finger and filk {lockings on 
 
 her feet ; 
 Says I, c It won't do him no harm to roid acrofs 
 
 his wheat.' 
 
 " So, toightly houdin on by'th yed, I hits th' owd 
 
 mare a whop, 
 Hoo plumps into the middle o' the wheatfield 
 
 neck an crop ; 
 An when hoo floinder'd out on it I catch'd another 
 
 fpin, 
 An, miflis, that's the cagion o' the blood upo' 
 
 my chin. 
 
 " I never ofs'd another lep, but kep the lane, an 
 
 then 
 In twenty minutes' toim about they turn'd toart 
 
 me agen ;
 
 96 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 The fox was foinly daggled, an the tits aw out o' 
 
 breath, 
 When they kilt him in the open, an owd Dobbin 
 
 feed the death. 
 
 " Loik dangling of a babby, then the Huntfman 
 
 hove him up, 
 The dugs a bayin roind him, while the gemman 
 
 croid, c Whoo-hup !' 
 As doefome cawves lick fleetings out o' th' 
 
 piggin in the (bed, 
 They worried every inch of him, aw but his tail 
 
 an yed. 
 
 " Now, miflis, fin the markets be a doing moderate 
 
 well, 
 Oiv welly maid my moind up juft to buoy a nag 
 
 myfel ; 
 For to keep a farmer's fpirits up 'gen things be 
 
 gettin low, 
 Theer's nothin loik Fox-huntin and a rattling 
 
 Tally-ho!"
 
 97 
 
 CHESHIRE JUMPERS. 
 
 IASK'D in much amazement, as I took my 
 morning ride, 
 " What means this monfter meeting, that collects 
 
 at Highwayfide ? 
 
 Who are ye ? and what ftrange event this gather- 
 ing crowd excites ? 
 
 Are ye fcarlet men of Babylon, or mounted Mor- 
 monites ? " 
 
 n. 
 
 A bearded man on horfeback anfwer'd blandly with 
 
 a fmile, 
 " Good Sir, no Canters are we, though we canter 
 
 many a mile ; 
 Nor will you find a Ranter here amongft our merry 
 
 crew, 
 Though if you feek a Roarer, there may chance be 
 
 one or two. 
 
 in. 
 
 " With Shakers and with Quakers no connection, 
 
 Sir, have we j 
 We are not Plymouth Brothers, Cheftiire Jumpers 
 
 though we be ; 
 
 H
 
 98 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 'Tis mine between two champions bold to judge, 
 
 if judge I can, 
 And fettle which, o'er hedge and ditch, will prove 
 
 the better man. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Mark well thefe two conditions, he who falls 
 
 upon the field, 
 Or he whofe horfe refufes twice the victory muft 
 
 yield." 
 As thus he fpake he ftroked his beard, and bade 
 
 the champions go ; 
 His beard was black as charcoal, but their faces 
 
 white as fnow. 
 
 v. 
 
 The ladies wave their kerchiefs as the rival jum- 
 pers {tart, 
 
 A fmile of fuch encouragement might nerve the 
 fainteft heart ; 
 
 The crowd that follow'd after with good wifhes 
 cheer'd them on, 
 
 Some cried " Stick to it, Thomas," others fhouted 
 " Go it, John!" 
 
 VI. 
 
 Awake to competition, and alive to any game, 
 From Manchefter and Liverpool the fpeculators 
 
 came ; 
 
 They calculated nicely every chance of lofs or gain ; 
 Some ftaked their cafh on cotton, fome preferr'd 
 
 the fugar cane.
 
 CHESHIRE JUMPERS. 99 
 
 VII. 
 
 Bold Thomas took precedence, as a proper man 
 
 to lead, 
 And ftraightway at a hedgerow cop he drove his 
 
 gallant fteed ; 
 He's off he's on he's over is bold Thomas 
 
 in his feat ? 
 Yes, the rider's in his faddle, and the horfe is on 
 
 his feet ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Make way for John ! the Leicefter Don ! John 
 
 clear'd it far and wide, 
 And fcornfully he fmiled on it when landed t'other 
 
 fide; 
 The prelude thus accomplifh'd, without lofs of life 
 
 or limb, 
 John's backers, much embolden'd, offer two to 
 
 one on him. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Now John led off; the choice again was fix'd upon 
 
 a cop, 
 
 A rotten ditch in front of it, a rail upon the top ; 
 While ftiouts of" Bono Johnny" to the echoing 
 
 hills were fent, 
 He wink'd his eye, and at it, and right over it he 
 
 went.
 
 ioo HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 x. 
 
 Hold him lightly, Thomas, lightly, give him free- 
 dom ere he bound, 
 
 Why fhape your courfe with fo much force, to run 
 yourfelf aground ? 
 
 Thus againft a Ruffian rampart goes a Britim can- 
 non ball : 
 
 Were Thomas at Sebaftopol, how fpeedily 'twould 
 fall! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Would you gain that proud preeminence on which 
 
 your rival ftands, 
 Upraife your voice, uproufe your horfe, but flacken 
 
 both your hands. 
 'Tis vain, 'tis vain, his fteed again ftands planted 
 
 in the ditch ; 
 The game is o'er, he tries no more, who makes a 
 
 fecond hitch. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Thus, unlike the wars of Lancafter and York, in 
 
 days of yore, 
 The Chefter ftrife with Leicefter unexpectedly 
 
 was o'er ; 
 We elfe had learnt which method beft infures us 
 
 from a fall, 
 The Chefter on-and-off ftep, or the Leicefter, 
 
 clearing all ?
 
 CHESHIRE JUMPERS. 101 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Whether breeches white, or breeches brown, the 
 
 more adhefive be, 
 And which the more effectual fpur, Champagne or 
 
 Eau-de-vie ? 
 Thefe, alas ! and other problems which their pro- 
 
 grefs had reveal'd, 
 Remain unfettled queftions for the future hunting 
 
 field. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 One leflbn learn, young ladies all, who came to 
 
 fee the mow, 
 Remember, in the race of life, once only to (ay 
 
 " No;" 
 
 This moral, for your warning, to my ditty I attach, 
 May ye ne'er by two refufals altogether lofe a 
 
 match ! 
 
 1854-
 
 102 
 
 TARPORLEY HUNT SONG. 
 
 i. 
 
 THE Eagle won Jupiter's favour, 
 The Sparrow to Venus was dear, 
 The Owl of Minerva, though graver, 
 
 We want not its gravity here ; 
 The Swallow flies faft, but remember 
 
 The Swallow with Summer is gone, 
 What bird is there left in November 
 To rival the Tarporley Swan ? 
 
 n. 
 
 Though fcarlet in colour our clothing, 
 
 Our collars though green in their hue, 
 The red cap of liberty loathing, 
 
 Each man is at heart a True Blue ; 
 Through life 'tis our fworn refolution, 
 
 To ftick to the pig-fkin and throne ; 
 We are all for a good conftitution, 
 
 Each man taking care of his own.
 
 TARPORLET HUNT SONG. 103 
 
 in. 
 
 The Sailor, who rides on the ocean, 
 With cheers may encounter the foe ; 
 
 Wind and fteam, what are they to horfe motion ? 
 Sea cheers, to a land Tally-ho ? 
 
 The canvas, the fcrew, and the paddle, 
 The fpeed of a thorough bred lack, 
 
 When faft in the foxhunting; faddle. 
 
 O 9 
 
 We gallop aftern of the pack. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Quaesitum, that ftandard of merit, 
 
 Where each his true level may know, 
 Checks pride in the haughty of fpirit, 
 
 Emboldens the timid and flow ; 
 The liquor that fparkles before us, 
 
 The dumb when they drink it can fpeak, 
 While the deaf in the roar of our chorus 
 
 A cure for their malady feek. 
 
 v. 
 Forget not that other Red Jacket, 
 
 Turn'd up with green laurel and bay ! 
 The tri-colour'd banners that back it ! 
 
 The might of their mingled array ! 
 Forget not the deeds that unite 'em 
 
 As comrades, though rivals in fame ; 
 But fill to the brim that quaesitum 
 
 Which Friendfhip and Chivalry claim. 
 
 1855-
 
 104 
 
 WE ARE ALL OF US TAILORS IN 
 TURN. 
 
 i. 
 
 I WILL fing you a fong of a fox-hunting bout, 
 They {hall tell their own tale who to-day 
 
 were thrown out ; 
 
 For the fafteft as well as the floweft of men, 
 Snobs or top-fawyers, alike now and then, 
 
 We are all of us tailors in turn. 
 
 n. 
 
 Says one, " From the cover I ne'er got away, 
 Old Quidnunc fat quoting The Times on his Grey, 
 How Lord Derby was wrong, and Lord Aberdeen 
 
 right, 
 
 And the hounds, ere he finifh'd, were clean out of 
 fight." 
 
 We are all of us tailors in turn. 
 
 III. 
 
 Says one, " When we ftarted o'er fallow and grafs, 
 I was clofe at the tail of the hounds, but, alas !
 
 WE ARE ALL OF US TAILORS, &c. 105 
 
 We came down to a drain in that black-bottom'd 
 
 fen, 
 If I had but been on my brook-jumper O, 
 
 then!" 
 
 We are all of us tailors in turn. 
 
 IV. 
 
 44 Difmounting," fays one, " at a gate that was faft, 
 The crowd, pufhing through, knock'd me down 
 
 as it it pafs'd ; 
 
 My horfe feized the moment to take his own fling, 
 Who'll again do, out hunting, a good-natured 
 
 thing!" 
 
 We are all of us tailors in turn. 
 
 v. 
 
 " Down the lane went I merrily failing along, 
 Till I found," fays another, " my courfe was all 
 
 wrong ; 
 I thought that his line toward the breeding-earth 
 
 lay, 
 
 But he went, I've heard fmce, juft the oppofite 
 way." 
 
 We are all of us tailors in turn. 
 
 VI. 
 
 From the wine-cup o'er night fome were forry 
 
 and fick, 
 Some fkirted, fome craned, and fome rode for a nick ;
 
 106 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 Like whales, in the water fome flounder'd about, 
 Thrown off and thrown in, they were alfo thrown 
 out. 
 
 We are all of us tailors in turn. 
 
 VII. 
 
 " You will find in the field a whole ton of loft 
 
 fhoes." 
 
 A credulous blackfmith, believing the news, 
 Thought his fortune were made if he walk'd o'er 
 
 the ground ; 
 
 He loft a day's work, but he ne'er a fhoe found ! 
 We are all of us tailors in turn. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 What deeds would one hero have done on his Grey, 
 Who was nowhere at all on his Cheftnut to-day ! 
 All join in the laugh when a braggart is beat, 
 And that jeft is loved beft which is aim'd at conceit. 
 We are all of us tailors in turn. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Good fellows there are, unpretending and flow, 
 Who can ne'er be thrown out, for they ne'er 
 
 mean to go ; 
 
 But, when the run's over, thefe oftentimes tell 
 The ftory far better than they who went well. 
 
 We are all of us tailors in turn.
 
 WE ARE ALL OF US TAILORS, &c. 107 
 
 x. 
 
 How trifling a caufe will oft lofe us a run ! 
 From the find to the finifh how few fee the fun ! 
 A mifchance it is call'd when we come to a halt; 
 I ne'er heard of one who confefs'd it a fault, 
 
 Yet we're all of us tailors in turn.
 
 io8 
 
 A WORD ERE WE START. 
 
 i. 
 
 BOYS to the hunting-field ! though 'tis No- 
 vember, 
 The wind's in the fouth ; but a word ere we 
 
 {tart. 
 
 Though keenly excited, I bid you remember 
 That hunting's a fcience, and riding an art. 
 
 ii. 
 
 The order of march and the due regulation 
 
 That guide us in warfare, we need in the chafe 
 
 Huntfman and Whip, each his own proper ftation, 
 Horfe,hound,and fox, each his own proper place. 
 
 HI. 
 
 The fox takes precedence of all from the cover ; 
 
 The horfe is an animal purpofely bred 
 After the pack to be ridden, not over 
 
 Good hounds are not rear'd to be knock'd on 
 the head.
 
 A WORD ERE WE START. 109 
 
 IV. 
 
 Strong be your tackle, and carefully fitted, 
 
 Breaft-plate and bridle, girth, ftirrup, and chain ; 
 
 You will need not two arms, if the mouth be well 
 
 bitted, 
 One hand lightly ufed will fuffice for the rein. 
 
 v. 
 Buckfkin's the only wear fit for the faddle ; 
 
 Hats for Hyde Park, but a cap for the chafe ; 
 In tops of black leather let fifhermen paddle, 
 
 The calves of a fox-hunter white ones incafe. 
 
 VI. 
 
 If your horfe be well bred and in blooming condition, 
 Both up to the country and up to your weight, 
 
 O, then give the reins to your youthful ambition, 
 Sit down in your faddle and keep his head 
 ftraight ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Paftime for princes ! prime fport of our nation ! 
 
 Strength in their finew and bloom on their 
 
 cheek ; 
 Health to the old, to the young recreation ; 
 
 All for enjoyment the hunting-field feek. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Eager and emulous only, not fpiteful ; 
 
 Grudging no friend, though ourfel ves he may beat ; 
 
 Juft enough danger to make fport delightful ! 
 Toil juft fufficient to make {lumber fweet !
 
 no 
 
 HARD-RIDING DICK. 
 
 i. 
 
 FROM the cradle his name has been " Hard- 
 riding Dick," 
 Since the time when cock-horfe he beftraddled a 
 
 ftick; 
 Since the time when, unbreech'd, without faddle 
 
 or rein, 
 He kick'd the old jackafs along the green lane. 
 
 n. 
 
 Dick, wafting no time o'er the claflical page, 
 Spent his youth in the ftable without any wage ; 
 The life of poor Dick, when he enter'd his teens, 
 Was to fleep in the hay-loft and breakfaft on beans. 
 
 in. 
 
 Promoted at length, Dick's adventures began : 
 A {tripling on foot, but when mounted a man ; 
 Capp'd, booted, and fpurr'd, his young foul was 
 
 on fire, 
 The day he was dubb'd " Second Whip" to the 
 
 Squire.
 
 HARD-RIDING DICK. in 
 
 IV. 
 
 See, how Dick, like a dart, fhoots a-head of the 
 
 pack ! 
 How he flops, turns, and twifts, rates, and rattles 
 
 them back ! 
 
 The laggard exciting, controlling the rafti, 
 He can comb down a hair with the point of his la(h. 
 
 v. 
 Oh ! fhow me that country which Dick cannot 
 
 crofs 
 
 Be it open or wood, be it upland or mofs, 
 Through the fog or the funihine, the calm or the 
 
 fquall, 
 By day-light or ftar-light, or no light at all ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Like a fwallow can Dick o'er the water-flood fkim, 
 And Dick, like a duck, in the faddle can fwim ; 
 Up the fteep mountain fide like a cat he can crawl, 
 He can fqueeze like a moufe through a hole in 
 the wall ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 He can tame the wild young one, infpirit the old 
 The reftive, the runaway, handle and hold j 
 Sharp fteel or foft-fawder, whiche'er does the trick, 
 It makes little matter to Hard-riding Dick.
 
 ii2 HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Bid the chief from the Defert bring hither his mare, 
 To ride o'er the plain againft Dick if he dare ; 
 Bring Coflack or Mexican, Spaniard or Gaul, 
 There's a Dick in our village will ride round 
 them all ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 A whip is Dick's fceptre, a faddle Dick's throne, 
 And a horfe is the kingdom he rules as his own ; 
 While grafping ambition encircles the earth, 
 The dominions of Dick are enclofed in a girth. 
 
 x. 
 
 Three ribs hath he broken, two legs, and one arm, 
 But there hangs, it is faid, round his neck a life- 
 charm ; 
 
 Still long odds are offer'd that Dick, when he drops, 
 Will die, as he lived, in his breeches and tops.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES.
 
 ON AN ARTIFICIAL ROSE. 
 
 AS fairy like, thy bounding feet, 
 The joyful ground to mufic beat, 
 Fair dancer ! from thy garment fell 
 This mimic rofe I love fo well. 
 
 ii. 
 
 I match'd it up I kifPd I preft 
 The fallen treafure to my breaft ; 
 Nor all the fweets of Eden's bower 
 Should tempt me to refign this flower. 
 
 in. 
 
 Now let old Anacreon fing 
 His darling rofe, the pride of fpring ; 
 To me more dear, to me more fweet, 
 Than nature's flower, this counterfeit. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Say'ft thou that its leaves are dry ? 
 At night, I'll fill the goblet high j 
 And as the bowl to thee I drain, 
 I'll fprinkle them with ruby rain.
 
 u6 MISCELLANEOUS 7ERSES. 
 
 v. 
 
 Tell me not the garden's rofe 
 With bloom inimitable glows ; 
 Rough winter comes with withering blaft ; 
 Tranfient charm ! behold it pail. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Time mall ne'er thefe leaves invade ; 
 They ne'er mail fall they ne'er ihall fade ; 
 But like the love I bear to thee, 
 This rofe mail bloom eternally !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 117 
 
 BALLAD. 
 
 THE occurrence here related took, place near the village 
 of Greflenig, about a league from Stollberg, during the 
 retreat of the French army, under Dumouriez. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE tide of war had turn'd at laft, 
 As the ocean backward flows ; 
 The army of Gaul was retiring faft, 
 From the might of her Auftrian foes. 
 
 ii. 
 
 There was a young and lovely bride 
 
 Mid the ranks of thofe that fled ; 
 She follow'd the fteps and {he fought by the fide 
 
 Of him (he had lately wed. 
 
 in. 
 
 She had left her home in that fertile foil 
 Where the vine and the olive grow, 
 
 For fields of blood, and to (hare in the toil 
 That her lover muft undergo.
 
 n8 MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Alas ! that love which had nerved her heart 
 
 To war and its daring deeds, 
 Could not to her tender frame impart 
 
 The ftrength a foldier needs. 
 
 v. 
 Now linger'd that youth with his bride in the rear, 
 
 For her limbs began to fail, 
 And the hue of her cheek, tho' unchanged by fear, 
 
 With wearinefs grew pale. 
 
 VI. 
 
 He look'd on her features in fond defpair, 
 
 As he held her to his breaft ; 
 And her drooping head, as they tarried there, 
 
 Sunk in his arms to reft. 
 
 VII. 
 
 From that hurried fleep, when fhe woke again, 
 
 Far from her anxious fight, 
 The diftant bands of her countrymen 
 
 Had vanifh'd in their flight. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then, together they left the beaten track, 
 
 And fought the foreft (hade : 
 She wifh'd from that hoft not a foldier back, 
 
 While her own flood by to aid.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 119 
 
 IX. 
 
 Hid from the fearch of purfuers there, 
 
 For days and nights they fped ; 
 The fruits of the foreft their only fare, 
 
 The leaves their only bed. 
 
 x. 
 
 Fondly they thought that thofe paths might guide 
 
 Once more to their native land ; 
 Vain hope ! what fees that ftartled bride ? 
 
 Why grafps fhe her lover's hand ? 
 
 XI. 
 
 'Tis the levell'd gun of a foeman near, 
 Half hid by the copfewood fcreen ; 
 
 She clung, as a fhield, to that breaft fo dear, 
 And the fatal flafh was feen ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 They fell their heart's blood ftain'd the fpot 
 
 Where yon lonely cyprefs grows ; 
 Their bodies, pierced by that fmgle ftiot, 
 
 In a fmgle grave repofe.
 
 120 MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 
 
 SONG OF ODIN. 
 
 i. 
 
 WHEN Odin his buckler had girded on, 
 Many a mother might weep for her fon ; 
 Woe to the foeman who ventured nigh 
 That unftieath'd fword or that angry eye ; 
 That club, when uplifted, ne'er fell to the ground 
 But the brains of a victim were fcatter'd around. 
 
 ii. 
 
 When he led his bold band to the battle-plain, 
 Who could e'er number the foes that were (lain ? 
 Heap upon heap they were backwards caft, 
 As drifted fnow by the whirlwind's blaft ; 
 In accents of thunder, he cheer'd to the daughter, 
 And his white lips foam'd like the ocean's water. 
 
 in. 
 
 Vainly the flirieks of the dying implore ; 
 His wrath was unquench'd, tho' he waded in gore; 
 There was but one found that could fink on his 
 
 breaft, 
 Like a charm on the ocean, and lull it to reft ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 121 
 
 Still reek'd his red fword, ftill flafiYd his fierce eye, 
 Till the fhout of his comrades was " Victory !" 
 
 IV. 
 
 Such was fierce Odin, and fuch muft he be 
 Who would banquet with him in the halls of the 
 
 free ; 
 
 In the halls of the bleft, where each warrior-gueft 
 Shall fit by the fide of the maid he loves beft ; 
 While fweetly her fong mail his deeds declare, 
 And her mufic mail charm with its witching ftrain; 
 She mail fmooth from his forehead the blood-clotted 
 
 hair, 
 
 That a chaplet of triumph his temples may bear, 
 As he drinks from the Ikull of a foeman flain.
 
 122 MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 
 
 CHANT DU MARIN. 
 
 PAR J. REBOUL DE NISMES. 
 
 (Tranjlated from the French.) 
 
 I. 
 
 THE fea ! un fathom* d in its depth, unbounded 
 in its flow ; 
 The fea ! whereon the brave of heart may wander 
 
 to and fro ; 
 The fea ! within whofe mighty arms the earth a 
 
 captive lies, 
 
 Whofe depth is intermingled with the depth of 
 diftant fkies. 
 
 ii. 
 
 The fea ! how calm and fmiling when with azure 
 
 hue it gleams ; 
 The fea ! how like a cradled child in playfulnefs 
 
 it feems ; 
 The fea ! which was my birth-place when the 
 
 tempeft {hook its wave ; 
 The fea ! within whofe bofom I await a failor's grave.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 123 
 
 in. 
 
 O fea ! be mine no burial-place beyond thy rolling 
 
 furge ; 
 When the feamew, wildly fcreaming, fliall have 
 
 fung my funeral dirge, 
 The billow, as a winding flieet enwrapp'd me, 
 
 never more 
 Caft back my limbs to lie and rot upon the hated 
 
 fhore. 
 
 IV. 
 
 It would pain and break my {lumber were I laid 
 
 below the fward ; 
 O'er the ames of thy lover keeping fond and jealous 
 
 ward, 
 Yield not thy charge till fummon'd by the trumpet 
 
 loud and dread, 
 Reftore them not till doomfday mall awake and 
 
 claim the dead.
 
 i2 4 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 
 
 ON THE BOWMEETING AND 
 
 FANCY FAIR, 
 Held at Ha war den Cajlle, Auguft 25, 1835. 
 
 THE tents are pitch'd in Hawarden's peaceful 
 vale, 
 
 And harmlefs {hafts the platted targe aflail ; 
 While now the bow (by archers more intent 
 On making love than making war) is bent, 
 Beneath thofe towers, where erft their fathers drew, 
 In deadly conflict, bows of tougher yew. 
 The canvas ftretch'd beneath th'o'erhanging wall, 
 Now Beauty lures us to her glittering ftall ; 
 While wares new-fangled, fhreds of motley hue, 
 Profufely fpread, the chequer'd counter ftrew. 
 
 Beneath the magic of her touch, behold 
 Transform'd at once the warlike arms of old ! 
 The mighty falchion to a penknife fhrinks, 
 Mail armour's mefhes form the purfe's links ; 
 The fturdy lance a bodkin now appears, 
 A bunch of tooth-picks once a hundred fpears !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 125 
 
 A painted toy behold the keen-edged axe ! 
 See men of iron turn'd to dolls of wax ! 
 The once broad fhield, contracted now in fpan, 
 Raifed as a fcreen or flutter'd as a fan ; 
 The gleaming helm a hollow thimble proves, 
 And weighty gauntlets dwindle into gloves ; 
 The plumes that wing'd the arrow through the fky, 
 Waft to and fro the fhuttlecock on high ; 
 Two trufty fwords are into fciflbrs crofs'd, 
 And dinted breaftplates are in corfets loft ; 
 While dungeon chains, to gentler ufe confign'd, 
 Now (liken laces, tighten ftays behind. 
 
 Approach ! nor weapons more deftrudtive fear, 
 Where'er ye turn, than pins and needles here. 
 While hobbling Age along the pathway crawls, 
 By aid of crutch, to fcale the Caftle walls, 
 With eager ftep advance, ye generous youths ! 
 Draw the long purfe, and ftrip the loaded booths ! 
 Bear each away fome trophy from the fteep ! 
 Take each a keepfake ere ye quit the keep ! 
 Come ! every ftranger, every gueft draw nigh ! 
 No peril waits you fave from Beauty's eye.
 
 126 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 
 
 BOWMEETING SONG, 
 
 ARLEY HALL, SEPTEMBER 4, 1851. 
 I. 
 
 THE tent is pitch 'd, the target rear'd, the 
 ground is meafured out, 
 For the weak arm fixty paces, and one hundred for 
 
 the ftout ! 
 Come gather ye together then, the youthful and 
 
 the fair, 
 
 And Poet's lay, to future day, the Victor fhall 
 declare ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Let bufy fingers lay afide the needle and the thread, 
 
 To prick the golden canvas with a pointed arrow- 
 head ; 
 
 Ye fportfmen quit the ftubble, quit, ye fifhermen, 
 the ftream, 
 
 Fame and glory ftand before you, brilliant eyes 
 around you beam.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 127 
 
 in. 
 
 All honor to the long-bow, which many a battle won, 
 Ere powder blazed and bullet flew, from arquebus 
 
 or gun ; 
 All honor to the long-bow, which merry men of 
 
 yore, 
 With hound and horn at early morn, in greenwood 
 
 foreft bore. 
 
 IV. 
 
 O ! famous is the Archer's fport, 'twas honor'd 
 long ago, 
 
 The God of Love, the God of Wit, bore both of 
 them a bow ; 
 
 Love laughs to day in Beauty's eye and blufhes on 
 her cheek, 
 
 And Wit is heard in every word, that merry Ar- 
 chers fpeak ; 
 
 v. 
 
 The Archer's heart, though, like his bow, a tough 
 
 and fturdy thing, 
 Is pliant ftill and yielding, when affe&ion pulls the 
 
 firing; 
 All his words and all his actions are like arrows, 
 
 pointed well 
 To hit that golden centre, where true love and 
 
 friendfliip dwell.
 
 128 MISCELLANEOUS 7ERSES. 
 
 VI. 
 
 They tell us in that outline which the lips of Beauty 
 
 fhow, 
 How Cupid found a model for his heart-fubduing 
 
 bow; 
 The arrows in his quiver are the glances from her 
 
 eye, 
 A feather from Love's wing it is, that makes the 
 
 arrow fly !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 129 
 
 THE PAPER KNIFE. 
 
 BELINDA ! deem not this, my fliining blade, 
 A ufelefs toy, alone for {how difplay'd, 
 But let this verfe inftrucl: thee how to prize 
 A wand wherein fuch various magic lies. 
 
 Peer'd at aflant, without my kindly aid, 
 The light of learning were but half difplay'd ; 
 The Poet's fong, pour'd forth in numbers fweet, 
 Would wafte its rhythm in the folded flieet ; 
 The march of intellect would lag behind, 
 And fcience fail to benefit mankind. 
 
 See 'neath my touch the fever'd leaves expand, 
 Diffufing knowledge o'er th' enlighten'd land ; 
 I fweep the quarto with majeftic ftride, 
 Through duodecimos with eafe I glide ; 
 Hold in derifion punctuation's laws, 
 Nor ftop at colons, nor at commas paufe ; 
 While one bent figure queftions, " Why fo faft ?" 
 And one with admiration ftands aghaft ! 
 To fuit the action to the word my care, 
 Though oft " a pajjion into rags I tear; " 
 K
 
 130 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 
 
 When hofts conflicting defperate warfare wage, 
 I cut and flafti with all a hero's rage ; 
 When heroines pine in fentimental grief, 
 With liftlefs languor part the yielding leaf; 
 With ruthlefs ftep the lovers' bower invade, 
 And to rude eyes betray the blufliing maid ; 
 The courfe of true love cannot fmoothly run 
 Through volumes three till my confent be won ; 
 By mine the point in epigram is mown, 
 The edge of fatire fharpen'd by my own ; 
 'Tis mine to fmooth the ruffled critic's fpleen, 
 When authors quarrel mine to intervene. 
 Or true or falfe I let the fecret out, 
 Give wings to wit, and fcatter jokes about ! 
 Hard drudgery mine, the everlafting fcrub 
 Of Village news-room, and of London club ; 
 Think through what columns, each fucceeding day, 
 Both morn and eve, I pioneer the way ; 
 Suri) Star^ Globe^ Herald^ Chronicle^ and Po/?, 
 My ivory baton marfhals all the hoft ; 
 To vulgar eyes reveals affairs of ftate, 
 Unfolds a tale or opens a debate. 
 Ye quidnuncs, patience ! though the Times be due, 
 Ye needs muft wait till I have fkimm'd it through ; 
 What though its pen the univerfe control, 
 It bides my pleafure ere its thunders roll. 
 Advertifements uncirculated lie, 
 Shows unannounced efcape the public eye, 
 Puffs, like the winds in ./Eolus' cave, are pent 
 In hidden corners, till I give them vent.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 131 
 
 All fides alike my pliant labours fit, 
 'Twixt Whig and Tory I the difference fplit ; 
 On every argument lay equal ftrefs, 
 Promoting ftill the freedom of the prefs. 
 
 Now with the fwain through paftoral meads I 
 
 ftray, 
 
 Now through dull epics plod my weary way, 
 Now ghoft-like glide before fome tragic queen, 
 Now, ever varying, fhift the comic fcene ; 
 Nor tear-drop falls, nor fides with laughter fhake, 
 Till I my entrance and my exit make.
 
 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 ON SEEING IN THE SAME BOOK-SHELF 
 
 Johnfon's Lives of the Poets , and Joknfon's 
 
 Lives of Highwaymen. 
 
 SEE Britim bards and Britifli cut-throats made 
 Alike immortal by a Johnfon's aid ! 
 The neckwith hemp, the brow with laurel bound, 
 The pen, the piftol, equally renown'd ! 
 Fame's temple reaching by a different track, 
 Dryden on wings or Turpin on a hack ! 
 
 CARVING AND GILDING. 
 
 " "\7~OU fee," faid our hoft, as we enter'd his 
 
 JL doors, 
 
 " I have furnifh'd my houfe a la Louis Quatorze." 
 " Then I wifh," faid a gueft, u when you afk us 
 
 to eat, 
 
 You would furnifh your board a la Louis Dixhuit ; 
 The eye, can it feaft when the ftomach is ftarving ? 
 Pray lefs of your gilding, and more of your carving."
 
 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 A RETORT UNCOURTEOUS. 
 
 WHERE London's city fkirts the Thames, 
 In ball-room met two rival dames ; 
 Quoth one, " Why all this youthful mam ? 
 You now are but a has-been, ma'am." 
 11 'Tis better far," was the reply, 
 " To be a has-been fuch as I, 
 Than ftill to hang upon the fhelf, 
 A never-was-er like yourfelf." 
 
 A NEW DENOMINATION. 
 
 PHCEBE has lived a life of fchifm, 
 Been every " ite" tried every " ifm;" 
 Where rings the peal of pulpit thunder 
 Which me in turn has not fat under ? 
 Each change of wind gives frem occaflon 
 For (hifting to a new perfuafion ; 
 While wondering goflips, o'er their tea, 
 Each other afk, " What can me be, 
 When next the Times mail as a convert quote her, 
 A Plymouth Brother or a Yarmouth Bloater?"
 
 134 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 ON A SMOKING POET. 
 
 i. 
 
 IN vain Apollo you invoke, 
 In vain his infpiration claim ; 
 Your numbers, ending ftill in fmoke, 
 Are, like your pipe, devoid of flame. 
 
 II. 
 Geneva, your Caftalian rill ; 
 
 Enveloped in a murky fliroud, 
 Your mufes haunt Vefuvius' hill, 
 
 Your Pegafus a " lazy cloud." 
 
 in. 
 
 Inditing ftill nocturnal lays, 
 
 Her maudlin votary Fame deceives ; 
 And gives, inftead of verdant bays, 
 
 A wreath of dried tobacco leaves.
 
 EPIGRAMS. 135 
 
 ON A NEW CHURCH, 
 
 ERECTED A. D. 1842. 
 
 ASH ALLOW chancel, fcarce fix feet by ten, 
 Which rail'd and painted forms a decent 
 
 pen; 
 
 A lofty fpire, which bears its glittering vane 
 Some hundred feet exalted from the plain ; 
 Say, was this would-be Chriftian elevation 
 Built for devotion or for oftentation ? 
 By the tall fpire we gauge the pride of man, 
 The world's devotion by the chancel fpan.
 
 136 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 ON THE ADMISSION OF JEWS 
 INTO PARLIAMENT. 
 
 FOR years unbleft, all hope of reft forbidden 
 to his feet, 
 At laft the Wandering Jew has found in Weft- 
 
 minfter a feat ; 
 Jews' ears, they fay, in olden day were fill'd with 
 
 molten lead, 
 The gold from out their pockets pick'd, the eyes 
 
 from out their head ; 
 Now, torturing ftill, with frefh ill-will, we (how 
 
 our ceafelefs hate, 
 And pour into the Hebrew's ear the lead of adebate .
 
 EPIGRAMS. 137 
 
 ON SEEING SOME NAMES CUT 
 ON A PANE OF GLASS. 
 
 i. 
 
 TRUE wit, with fableft ink, 
 On cryftal writes in vain ; 
 The trickling letters fink, 
 And fade upon the pane. 
 
 ii. 
 But, ah ! fhould Folly's finger 
 
 With a diamond ring be bleft, 
 His name and nonfenfe linger, 
 
 Indelibly impreff'd. 
 
 in. 
 
 On Cloe's heart the fame, 
 
 To fenfe and merit cold, 
 Whoe'er would grave his name, 
 
 Muft boaft a pen of gold.
 
 138 MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 
 
 MODERN CHIVALRY. 
 
 i. 
 
 TIME was, with fword and battle-axe, 
 All clad in armour bright, 
 When cleaving fkulls afunder 
 Was the bufinefs of a knight. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Now chivalry means furgery, 
 
 And fpurs are won by him 
 Who can mend a fkull when broken, 
 
 Or piece a fractured limb. 
 
 in. 
 
 Our knights of old couch'd lances, 
 Drew long fwords from the (heath, 
 
 Now knighthood couches eye-balls, 
 And chivalry draws teeth. 
 
 IV. 
 
 See ! refcued from confinement, 
 
 To charm our ravifti'd fight, 
 Fair ladies are deliver'd 
 
 By the arm of a true knight.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 139 
 
 v. 
 Behold ! the knight chirurgeon 
 
 To deeds of blood advance, 
 A bandage for a banner ! 
 
 And a lancet for a lance ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 To heroes of the hofpital 
 The " bloody hand" is due, 
 
 But ye heralds bend the fingers, 
 Or the fee may tumble through.
 
 140 MISCELLANEOUS F ERSES. 
 
 ON THE LANDLORD 
 
 OF THE WHITE HORSE INN, AT ALPNACH, 
 
 IN SWITZERLAND. 
 
 i. 
 
 THE white horfe by minehoft has been brought 
 to the poft, 
 
 Of his points and his pints he has reafon to boaft ; 
 To the guefts who approach him a welcome he 
 
 fnorts, 
 While they fill up his quarters and empty his quarts. 
 
 n. 
 
 Neither weak in his Hocks^ nor deficient in Beaune^ 
 In his Cote good condition though palpably mown, 
 There are folk, not a few, who (till call him a fcrew ; 
 If applied to cork-drawing, the term may be true. 
 
 in. 
 
 Altogether reverfing the old-fafliion'd plan, 
 Here the horfe puts a bit in the mouth of the man ; 
 And fo long as not given to running away, 
 To the roadfter who enters he never fays "Neigh."
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 7ERSES. 141 
 
 IV. 
 
 He fets him, when caught, ftraight to work at the 
 
 Carte, 
 
 With the coft of it faddles him ere he depart, 
 Gives him three feeds a day and the run of the 
 
 bin, 
 And then makes him fork out for the good of the 
 
 Inn! 
 
 v. 
 They may call the grey mare at his fide the beft 
 
 horfe, 
 
 But they both pull together for better for worfe ; 
 Through the heyday of life may they pleafantly 
 
 pafs, 
 Till by Death, that grim groom, they are turn'd 
 
 out to grafs.
 
 M2 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 
 
 THE FLYING HAT. 
 
 i. 
 
 TO ride in rough weather, her hat and feather 
 A lady fair put on, 
 
 And, facing the wind, was aggrieved to find 
 Both hat and feather gone ! 
 
 II. 
 With a look of defpair, that lady fair 
 
 Beheld them upwards foar ; 
 " 'Tis mine," I cried, " a race to ride 
 
 I never rode before." 
 
 ill. 
 
 Ahead it flew, as a hat fhould do, 
 
 While I fpurr'd on behind ; 
 Though wellnigh blown my gallant roan, 
 
 The hat was flill in wind. 
 
 IV. 
 
 With loaded gun the keepers run, 
 
 They one and all agree, 
 'Twere well to flay this bird of prey 
 
 And fave the pheafantrie.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 143 
 
 v. 
 With feather'd creft, and purple breaft, 
 
 Its back was like a crow ; 
 Though flowing veil made wings and tail, 
 
 It had ne'er a leg below. 
 
 VI. 
 
 As up they gaze, in much amaze, 
 
 Their puzzled heads they (hake ; 
 Unlike the hat they wonder at, 
 
 They are not " wide awake." 
 
 VII. 
 
 Without a hitch o'er hedge and ditch 
 
 I gallopp'd through the run ; 
 I ftopp'd at nought till the hat was caught 
 
 And the prize I fought was won. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " Take, lady fair, the hat I bear, 
 
 And the wifh that I impart ; 
 If worthy fuch meed, may he thus fucceed 
 
 Who rides to win your heart ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 " May the warning you gather from loft hat and 
 
 feather 
 
 Be never through life forgot ; 
 Your riding-hat tied, and your heart, when a bride, 
 Made faft with a true-love-knot." 
 
 1853-
 
 144 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 
 
 THE DEATH OF GEOFFREY RUDEL 
 
 THE TROUBADOUR, VERSIFIED FROM 
 
 LA GAULE POETIQUE. 
 
 " Petrarch, en parlant de cet infortune troubadour, dit 
 qu'il alia chercher la mort a force de rames et de voiles." 
 
 HER wandering pilgrims, from the Syrian 
 fhore, 
 
 Provence has welcomed to their home once more; 
 And gathering crowds, with eager voice, demand 
 What tidings bring they from the Holy Land ? 
 
 They tell of battles by the Chriftian won, 
 And deeds of daring by Crufaders done; 
 They tell of perils and of toils paft through, 
 Till tears of pity every eye bedew ; 
 But worthier ftill of praife and wonder deem 
 One gentle name, their ftill unceafing theme. 
 
 In Tripoli dwells, endow'd with beauty rare, 
 A virgin princefs, Melinfende the fair ; 
 They tell how never on this earth as yet 
 Such various gifts in one fair mortal met ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 145 
 
 How gentlenefs and dignity combine, 
 How wit and wifdom in her converfe fhine ; 
 Romance ne'er pictured to the dreamer's Tight 
 A form fo graceful or an eye fo bright ! 
 
 As though enchain'd by fome ftrange magic 
 
 fpell, 
 
 Still lingering, liftens to the tale they tell, 
 With beating heart, the Troubadour Rudel. 
 Fly ! ere too late, unhappy Troubadour ; 
 Fly ! ere thofe words to thy deftru&ion lure. 
 Alas ! already that encrimfon'd cheek 
 And throbbing pulfe love's influence befpeak ! 
 That name by day his fong's untiring theme, 
 That form by night the phantom of his dream. 
 Amid the armed chivalry of France, 
 Rudel no more (hall to the lifts advance, 
 Nor urge the fteed, nor wield the knightly lance ; 
 Bright eyes, the glory of his native clime, 
 Shall win no more the homage of his rhyme. 
 Let other minftrels now their charms recite, 
 He views them only as the ftars of night ; 
 A fancied fun, in regions far away, 
 O'erpowers their light and lures him to its ray. 
 
 O'er fame and glory conquering love prevails, 
 His parting fpeeds, and ftill with favouring gales 
 Wafts on the veflel as it eaftward fails j 
 The winds outftripp'd by his impatient hafte, 
 Oft o'er the deck with reftlefs ftep he paced, 
 And chid the ocean for its lack of fpeed, 
 The waves too tardy for the lover's need ; 
 
 L
 
 146 MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 
 
 Now wrapp'd in filence, gazed with longing eye, 
 Intent the haven of his hope to fpy ; 
 And now, reclined beneath the whittling fhroud, 
 Thus in fweet numbers told his pain aloud : 
 
 SONG. 
 
 How bright with blifs, love-favouring night, 
 When eyes, which I adore, with light 
 
 Of feraph-fweetnefs beam ; 
 Sad day, how dark ! when envious morn, 
 From my fond fight that image torn, 
 Difpels the dream ! 
 
 O blifsful night, when whifper'd near 
 Thofe accents charm my liftening ear, 
 
 And all my fenfes thrill ! 
 Linger, night, linger yet awhile, 
 And bid that harmony beguile 
 My {lumber ftill ! 
 
 The morning fun difturbs a dream 
 More beauteous than his midday beam 
 
 Strains which from Heaven fall ! 
 Strains which by day my ceafelefs lyre, 
 Still baffled in the vain defire, 
 Would fain recall ! 
 
 To catch the echo of the words he fung, 
 
 On their poifed oars the liftening failors hung ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 7ERSES. 147 
 
 The veflfel's track, in gliftening fcales array'd, 
 The dolphins follow'd as the minftrel play'd. 
 Alas ! already flufh'd with fever's die, 
 The funken cheek, and the enfeebled figh, 
 Tell how that flame, devouring night and day, 
 With pain unceafing, waftes his heart away. 
 Ah ! fond delufion, fhe, unfeen, unknown, 
 That voice infpiring may not hear its tone, 
 Save in the utterance of life's parting moan. 
 
 In fight at length the wifh'd-for fliore appears, 
 And now the port the {training veflel nears ; 
 Ere from the maft the fluttering fails they lower, 
 The pitying failors bear Rudel to fhore. 
 Swift fpeeds his page, the wondering Princefs feeks, 
 Kneels at her feet, and thus love's errand fpeaks : 
 
 " Fair Melinfende ! from his diftant home 
 Fame of thy beauty urged Rudel to roam ; 
 Th' enamour'd youth, that he thofe charms might 
 
 fee, 
 
 Has crofs'd the waves that fever'd him from thee. 
 Alas ! that love which led him o'er the wave, 
 In mockery guided only to his grave ! 
 E'en now, his pallet ftretch'd upon the beach, 
 Thy whifper'd name employs his feeble fpeech. 
 Hafte, gentle Princefs ! though the charms which 
 
 gave 
 Th' unconfcious wound have now no power to 
 
 fave, 
 
 In pity, hafte ! though Heaven his life deny, 
 Blefs with one look thy vilim ere he die ! "
 
 148 MISCELLANEOUS 7ERSES. 
 
 Urged by a fecret fympathy, {he flies, 
 With eager fteps, to where her votary lies ; 
 Though death now 'gan his clofing fight to dim, 
 He faw thofe eyes, and faw them fix'd on him. 
 How far the bright reality excell'd, 
 Whate'er fond fancy had in dreams beheld ! 
 " 'Tis thou ! 'tis thou !" with ftruggling voice he 
 
 cried, 
 Prefs'd on her hand one fervent kifs and died. 
 
 Faintly his falling lyre was heard to fling 
 One plaintive echo from its broken firing ; 
 The gale that fwept it through the eaftern grove, 
 Bore his chafte fpirit to the realms above.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 149 
 
 LORELEI. 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. 
 
 i. 
 
 WHERE the Rhine purfues its track 
 By the walls of Bacharach, 
 There a bright-eyed forcerefs dwells, 
 Hearts bewitching with her fpells. 
 
 . ii. 
 
 By her magic charms perplext, 
 Braveft men are forely vext, 
 Knight nor peafant refcue find 
 Whom her love-enchantments bind. 
 
 in. 
 
 Her the Bifhop bade appear, 
 Judgment from the Church to hear ; 
 But could not her doom decree, 
 Of fo fair a form was (he ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Movingly to her he faid, 
 " Lorelei, mifguided maid ' 
 What hath tempted thee to ply 
 Damned craft of forcery ?"
 
 ISO MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 
 
 v. 
 
 " Holy Biftiop ! let me die, 
 Weary of my life am I ; 
 In my glance there lurketh death, 
 Whom I look on perifheth ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 " Stars of flaming light thefe eyne ! 
 Magic wand this arm of mine ! 
 Bind me to the burning ftake, 
 This my wand of magic break." 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Thy fad fentence muft be ftay'd 
 Till thou haft confeflion made ; 
 Why e'en now thofe flaming eyne 
 Burn into this heart of mine. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 11 Lorelei ! this powerlefs hand 
 Dare not break thy magic wand, 
 Or, with pity for thy fake, 
 Truly my own heart would break." 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Why thofe bitter words to me, 
 Sporting with my mifery ? 
 Bifhop ! more I need thy prayer 
 That God's mercy I may (hare ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 7ERSES. 151 
 
 x. 
 
 " Let me die, fmce nought can move 
 My fad heart again to love ; 
 Let thy lips my doom decree, 
 Death no terror has for me ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Me my lover has betray'd, 
 Left me a forfaken maid, 
 Wandering on fome foreign fhore, 
 To return again no more. 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Eyes by nature foft and bright, 
 Cheeks where blended hues unite, 
 Voice of fweet and forrowing tone, 
 My enchantments thefe alone ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Nor can I their influence fly, 
 Anguifh ftricken I muft die ; 
 When my features I furvey, 
 Sorrow waftes my heart away. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Ere I die thy blefling give, 
 That with Jefu I may live ; 
 Why muft I on earth abide, 
 Sever'd from my lover's fide ? "
 
 152 MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 
 
 xv. 
 
 Three knights at his bidding wait : 
 " Bear her to the cloifter ftraight." 
 " Lorelei ! God's mercy ftill 
 Guard thy brain from further ill ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 '* Thou, in garb of nun bedight, 
 Robe of black, and veil of white, 
 There to prayer and penance given, 
 Win thy way from earth to Heaven ! " 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Now the mounted knights, all three, 
 Ride forth to the nunnery ; 
 Sadly on, with tearful eye, 
 In the midft rode Lorelei. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " Let me now, I pray thee, knight, 
 Stand upon yon rocky height, 
 Once again my fight would fall 
 On my lover's caftle wall ; 
 
 XIX. 
 
 41 Once again my longing eyne 
 Look into the depth of Rhine ; 
 Then, within the cloifter gate, 
 I on God will ever wait."
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 7ERSES. 153 
 
 xx. 
 
 Where that rock from out the deep 
 Like a wall rofe ftraight and fteep, 
 Climbing up from ftone to ftone, 
 On the top (he flood alone. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Said the maid " A bark I fpy 
 On the Rhine-ftream floating by ; 
 He whom I, returning, fee 
 Muft, I trow, my lover be. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " Now my heart is light and free, 
 My loft lover, it is he ! " 
 From the mountain's rocky bank 
 Plunging in the Rhine file fank.
 
 154 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 i. 
 
 WHEN the (hades of night are finking, 
 And the angry billows foam, 
 Love cheers the failor, thinking 
 Of his fweetheart and his home. 
 
 II. 
 When refts the foldier dreaming, 
 
 With the toil of battle fpent, 
 The light of Love is beaming 
 
 On the flumber of his tent. 
 
 III. 
 
 Love leads the courtly dances, 
 
 Making gay the princely hall, 
 Sweetly fmiling in the glances 
 
 Which its chivalry inthral. 
 
 IV. 
 
 One feeks another flights him 
 Though he blifs to all impart,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS FERSES. 155 
 
 The home Love moft delights in 
 Is the village maiden's heart. 
 
 v. 
 When firft its pulfe revealeth 
 
 An emotion ftrange and new, 
 And the village maiden feeleth 
 
 That the tale Love tells is true.
 
 156 MISCELLANEOUS 7ERSES. 
 
 CHIMONANTHUS FRAGRANS. 
 
 THESE bloflbms of empurpled hue, 
 They drink not of the vernal dew ; 
 They bloom not in the fummer fheen, 
 When flowers are gay, and leaves are green 
 When Autumn gilds the bright parterre, 
 They mix not with the fragrance there ; 
 But when, the fky with clouds o'ercaft, 
 Rough winter chills the fweeping blaft, 
 Then, peering forth, each purple gem 
 Shines bright upon the leaflefs ftem. 
 
 True friendfhip thus its prefence hides ; 
 When all is bright aloof it bides ; 
 Shuns to intrude amid the throng 
 When mirth and joy the hours prolong ; 
 But comes when flattering crowds depart, 
 And fheds a balm into the heart ; 
 Then only, in affliction, known 
 Its worth, when all the reft are flown !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 7ERSES. 157 
 
 PARAPHRASE OF THE TWENTY- 
 EIGHTH CHAPTER OF JOB. 
 
 i. 
 
 BEHOLD the earth, its furface bread beftows, 
 Floods o'er it roll, and fire within it glows ; 
 Its ftones are brilliant with the fapphire's rays, 
 And golden duft its glittering fand difplays. 
 Man fearcheth out the fecret caves of night, 
 Each precious thing he fees, and brings to light ; 
 Unhid by Ocean, and unknown to fpace, 
 O ! where is knowledge, where is wifdom's place? 
 
 n. 
 
 Man hath it not, nor is it found on earth ; 
 The gold of Ophir equals not its worth ; 
 Nor changed for jewels, nor with filver bought, 
 To purchafe wifdom gold availeth nought ; 
 Corals, nor pearls, nor Ethiop's gems fuffice, 
 More worth than rubies, far beyond all price ! 
 Whence, then, is knowledge? Where doth wifdom 
 
 lie? 
 Hid from the fowls of heaven, unfeen by living 
 
 eye !
 
 158 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 
 
 in. 
 
 God only knows it, for from God it came, 
 When He the thunder roll'd o'er paths of flame 
 When rain, defcending, fell by His decree, 
 And winds were weigh'd, and meafured was the 
 
 fea. 
 
 He then beheld it, in his works difplay'd, 
 He then declared it ; and to man He faid 
 " The fear of God, lo, wifdom lies therein, 
 And this is knowledge, to depart from fin ! "
 
 SONNETS.
 
 SONNETS. 161 
 
 ON VISITING PETRARCH'S HOUSE. 
 
 MARY ! when we to Arqua's village came, 
 Saw the rear'd tomb, the fountain's hal- 
 low'd rill, 
 
 And climb'd the fummit of that verdant hill 
 Where Petrarch's dwelling bears the poet's 
 
 name ; 
 
 When I beheld the crowded page proclaim, 
 In varied tongue, unchanging homage ftill, 
 The deathlefs praife that (hall all ages fill, 
 I figh'd myfelf to (hare the poet's fame. 
 Yet, ah ! when I remember'd how in vain 
 His lyre he ftrung to foften Laura's pride, 
 Doom'd to a life of unrequited pain ; 
 Ah ! Mary, then thy yielding hand I preft, 
 Turn'd from that book to gaze upon my Bride, 
 Nor cared for Fame who was in Love fo bleft. 
 
 M
 
 162 SONNETS. 
 
 A RECOLLECTION. 
 
 I WELL remember in my youthful day, 
 When firft of love I felt the inward fmart, 
 My fellow hunters, eager all to ftart, 
 One morn I follow'd, lingering by the way, 
 
 Heedlefs of fport, for with unwonted fway 
 That fecret grief lay heavy on my heart ; 
 Till a voice whifper'd me, ere day depart 
 Thy loved one thou {halt fee. Away ! away ! 
 
 The chafe began, I ftiared its maddening glee, 
 And rode amid the foremoft in that run, 
 Whofe end, far diftant, Love had well foretold. 
 
 Her dwelling lay betwixt my home and me ; 
 Still on the horizon's verge the fetting fun 
 Tinged, as we met, her blufliing cheeks with 
 gold.
 
 SONNETS. 163 
 
 THE CHAPEL BELL. 
 
 BEFORE my Hall I flood ; with fated eye 
 And heavy heart, upon the pile I gazed, 
 Which care, and coft,and years of toil had raifed, 
 From turrets' bafe to glittering vane on high. 
 
 Cold critics came well pleafed its faults to fpy, 
 Thofe very faults which fmooth-tongued flattery 
 
 praifed, 
 
 While country folk ftood filent and amazed ; 
 " All," my heart whifper'd, " all is vanity." 
 
 Hark ! yonder bell befpeaks the hour of prayer, 
 Far down the vale its gentle echoes fteal, 
 Bid youth from fport, and age from toil abftain ; 
 
 Won by that found, if but one firmer kneel 
 With humble heart, and contrite fpirit there 
 Glory to God ! not all, not all is vain.
 
 1 64 SONNETS. 
 
 ON AN OLD BARN CONVERTED 
 INTO A VILLAGE SCHOOL. 
 
 NIGH the old barn one Autumn noon I 
 ftood, 
 
 Huge ribs of oak its mofs-grown roof upheld, 
 Shaped in rude faftiion by the axe that fell'd 
 That giant timber from the neighbouring wood ; 
 
 From waggons toft, ripe (heaves the floor beftrew'd, 
 Loud mirth and laughter wearinefs difpell'd ; 
 " Home, harveft home," the ruftic chorus 
 
 fwell'd, 
 And mingling voices ftill the ftrain renew'd. 
 
 That barn now ftands a village fchool, within 
 Chrift's little ones are welcomed, there to learn 
 How bleft they live who to His guidance cling. 
 
 Among this wheat no tares may Satan win, 
 By angels gather'd to their Father's barn, 
 This harveft home may feraph voices fing !
 
 SONNETS. 165 
 
 ON CROSSING THE S1MPLON. 
 
 O'ER the bleak pafs huge Alps their fhadows 
 throw, 
 
 With lingering fteps I climb the mountain way, 
 While, lefTening to their view, mine eyes furvey 
 With fond regret the funlit vale below ; 
 There, 'neath Italian fkies ripe vineyards glow, 
 Here fcathed pines a leaflefs grove difplay, 
 There tranquil ftreams through fruitful meadows 
 
 ftray, 
 
 On barren crags here fleeps eternal fnow. 
 Alas ! e'en thus the path of life we tread, 
 
 Where pleafure lures us to the flower-ftrew'd 
 
 plain, 
 
 While virtue points, the rough afcent we dread. 
 O that my foul unto my God were given, 
 Cleanfed by His mercy from all earthly ftain, 
 Pure as yon fnow that cleaves the vault of 
 Heaven !
 
 1 66 SONNETS. 
 
 NAPLES AT SUNSET. 
 
 NAPLES ! where Virgil found his laft repofe, 
 Where firft his lyre the youthful TafTo 
 
 ftrung, 
 
 The fun's low radiance, o'er the waters flung, 
 A golden halo round thy city throws. 
 
 He finks and now each diftant mountain glows 
 Like purple drops from its own vintage wrung ; 
 Can the wide earth her faireft fhores among 
 A icene more lovely to his fmile difclofe ? 
 
 And Ocean lies fuhmifllve at thy feet, 
 
 Won by thy charms unceafing homage pours, 
 Loath to encroach, and powerlefs to retreat ; 
 
 His gentle waves, which but in whifpers fpeak, 
 Clinging as though enamour'd of thy fhoTes, 
 Like Love's fond lips to Beauty's witching cheek.
 
 SONNETS. 167 
 
 ON A DESECRATED CHAPEL NEAR 
 
 LAUSANNE, NOW USED AS A STABLE. 
 
 HARD by a brook, whofe ftream Lake Le- 
 man feeds, 
 
 A wayfide chapel ftands, fuch feems it ftill ; 
 But ftrains devout no more its echoes fill, 
 And thence unblefs'd the paffing pilgrim fpeeds; 
 
 His toil-worn oxen, when he thither leads, 
 
 At noon defcending from the fun-fcorch'd hill, 
 Traced on that wall with rude but reverent (kill, 
 The facred crofs no more the peafant heeds. 
 
 If with fuch joy rejoiced the angels, when 
 
 The ox was loofed in Bethlehem's lowly fhed, 
 His crib the cradle of the Virgin-born j 
 
 How muft they weep to fee, defpifed of men, 
 The fpot His prefence bleft, worn by the tread 
 Of faints, that floor hoof-trampled and uptorn !
 
 168 SONNETS. 
 
 ON THE CLOCK IN STRASBURGH 
 CATHEDRAL. 
 
 DUE praife be his whofe fkill to Strafburgh 
 gave 
 
 This mafter-piece of mechanifm rare, 
 
 More precious wifdom theirs whofe daily care 
 
 Is on their heart its homilies to grave. 
 Peter at cockcrow wept like him we have 
 
 Denied our Lord, though fworn His crofs to bear ; 
 
 Bleft they who with him weep, and with him 
 fhare 
 
 The contrite fpirit, which alone can fave ! 
 Work ere night cometh, nor the time prolong ; 
 
 That voice which fpeaks in every ringing chime, 
 
 Of mercy now, warns ftill of vengeance due. 
 How many join that tranfept's midday throng 
 
 With curious eye to mark the ftep of Time^ 
 
 To ponder on Eternity how few !
 
 SONNETS. 169 
 
 ON A 
 
 DRAWING OF THE CRUCIFIXION 
 
 STILL VISIBLE ON A DUNGEON WALL IN 
 THE CHATEAU DE CHILLON. 
 
 WHERE, lake reflected, Chillon's turrets 
 {hine, 
 Where treacherous pitfall lined with fpike and 
 
 blade, 
 
 Beam, ring and pillar lurk in dreary (hade, 
 Of faith and hope, mark one enduring fign ; 
 Though faint, the eye may fcan each lingering line, 
 Traced by fome hand which galling chain 
 
 o'erlaid ; 
 
 The dying Saviour on the crofs pourtray'd, 
 Converts that cell into a holy fhrine. 
 Nor lone, nor friendlefs, fuch a captive deem, 
 Fill'd with His image, whofe abiding love 
 To him was father, brethren, kindred, all ! 
 And ftill, while gazing on the narrow gleam, 
 Of azure fky, feen through the grated wall, 
 Hope pointed heavenward to his home above.
 
 170 SONNETS. 
 
 ON VISITING THE CASTLE AND CHURCH 
 OF GRUYERE IN SWITZERLAND. 
 
 THE author gladly acknowledges that England is now no 
 longer liable to the reproach which fuggefted this Sonnet, 
 fome twelve years ago. 
 
 WHERE Gruyere's caftle rearing ftill on 
 high, 
 
 Its filent halls and its untrodden flair, 
 ^Looks down upon a village rude and bare, 
 The cheerlefs home of hungering penury, 
 
 Paining the heart of him who pafTeth by ; 
 A coftly church, enrich'd with pious care, 
 Amid thofe dwellings, echoing praife and prayer, 
 Tells him that faith can poverty defy. 
 
 Sadly I thought on many a lordly pile, 
 
 Whofe gilded walls unbounded wealth difplay, 
 Uprear'd confpicuous in my native ifle ; 
 
 The village-church its altar's mean array, 
 Its font, its floor, which filth and damp defile, 
 Alone uncared for, crumbling to decay.
 
 SONNETS. 171 
 
 ON THE RIVER TEPL, WRITTEN 
 
 AT THE FRIEND SCHAFT-SAAL 
 
 CARLSBAD. 
 
 FRIENDLESS I came, but friendlefs now no 
 more ; 
 
 Thy voice, fweet river, greets me, and I trace 
 A fmile of welcome in thy fparkling face, 
 When early morn invites me to thy ftiore ; 
 
 Thy funlit waters to frefh life reftore 
 
 The fragrant flowers that gild the mountain's 
 
 bafe ; 
 
 Lull'd by the rippling mufic of thy race, 
 With tranquil happinefs my heart runs o'er. 
 
 The hues of heaven are mirror'd in thy ftream ; 
 O ! teach me fo to live, that hope fublime, 
 From Heaven reflected, on my path may beam ! 
 
 Thy ceafelefs current runs to reach the fea ; 
 Teach me in wifdom to redeem the time, 
 Still haftening onward to Eternity.
 
 172 SONNETS. 
 
 ON THE MARIEN CAPELLE, 
 CARLSBAD. 
 
 ONE filver ftar with evening's twilight ftrove ; 
 Mid the dark pines, which bafe and fum- 
 
 mit hide, 
 
 A lone lamp glimmer'd on the mountain fide, 
 As 'twere that ftar reflected from above ; 
 
 The chapel of the Virgin ! cold in love, 
 And proud of heart, forbear ye to deride ; 
 Judge not his confcience, nor a brother chide, 
 Though to yourfelves aftumbling-block it prove. 
 
 On this pure fpot, its fhrine with offerings hung, 
 Its rock by knees of fuppliant pilgrims worn, 
 Intruding dare I prayerlefs hence depart ? 
 
 4 Hail ! Virgin Mother, highly bleft ! ' my tongue 
 Repeats the falutation, while my heart 
 Bows down in worfhip to the Virgin-born.
 
 SONNETS. 173 
 
 ON TWO RECUMBENT MONUMENTAL 
 
 FIGURES OF THE FOURTEENTH 
 
 CENTURY, 
 
 Which had been much mutilated at the time of 
 the Rebellion. 
 
 WITH prayer-clafp'd hands and clofed eyes, 
 refign'd 
 
 To death's calm (lumber, knight and lady lie ; 
 Fill not thefe forms of fculptured chivalry 
 With like devotion every gentle mind ? 
 
 Rent are the emblems where their feet reclined, 
 Betokening courage, truth, and loyalty ; 
 In days when treafon doom'd a king to die, 
 What marvel fuch no fympathy could find ! 
 
 Thus never more may Heaven its wrath difplay, 
 But altar, fhrine, and throne, in mercy fave 
 From the fierce zeal of fpoilers, rude as they ; 
 
 May we, ftill following in the fteps of thofe 
 Whom honour guided, gentle, true, and brave, 
 Live as they lived, and thus in peace repofe !
 
 174 SONNETS. 
 
 THE LILY. 
 
 GLORY of flowers ! preeminent o'er all, 
 Thou white-robed lily, deck'd with pendant 
 
 gold, 
 
 What bleft remembrance, as thy leaves unfold, 
 To pure and humble hearts doft thou recall ? 
 Difcarded emblem ! o'er degenerate Gaul 
 Wafte we vain fighs ? no longer as of old 
 Her regal banner to the winds unroll'd, 
 Weep we vain tears o'er chivalry's downfall ? 
 No ! thy unfullied leaves nor ftrife, nor din, 
 Of worldly warfare to the mind fuggeft ; 
 No wreath from thee earth's haughty con- 
 querors win ; 
 
 Still feems Heaven's fainted Handmaid to invert 
 Thy form with beauty, free from ftain of fin, 
 The Virgin Mother by all nations bleft !
 
 SONNETS. 175 
 
 IL GELOSO. 
 
 NAME, them who reigneft miftrefsof my heart, 
 Some deed to prove the fealty of thy 
 
 knight, 
 
 Some foeman worthy of my lance to fight, 
 Some gift to fetch from earth's remoteft mart ; 
 
 Or, not unfkilful in the minftrel's art, 
 If tuneful verfe thy liftening ear delight, 
 Say, mail my pen from morn till eve indite 
 Thy praife, and ceafelefs fong my blifs impart ? 
 
 If that I do be done alone by me, 
 
 Exalted by thy love beyond all meafure, 
 What dare I not, what can I not for thee ? 
 
 But if another, tending on thy pleafure, 
 Prefume to ferve, and fo far favour'd be, 
 Then faretheewell! my heart refignsitstreafure.
 
 1 76 SONNETS. 
 
 THE TWO ROSES. 
 
 THESE rofes take, which rival hues inveft, 
 They tell how York and Lancafter of yore 
 Their chofen badge to many a conflict bore, 
 When England wept her braveft and her beft. 
 
 That ftrife is paft, in peace thofe warriors reft ; 
 Wafte not thy grief their ftruggles to deplore, 
 Thy pity keep for that which needs it more 
 The ftrife now raging in my troubled breaft. 
 
 On thy fair forehead is the white rofe mown, 
 Thy lips the fragrance of its leaves impart, 
 Its purity an emblem of thine own ; 
 
 When will that cheek unfold what I am feeking, 
 The blufh that tells me of thy yielding heart, 
 The red-rofe there love's victory befpeaking ?
 
 SONNETS. 177 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 
 
 FROM THE ITALIAN OF CARLO PEPOLI. 
 
 NIGHT veils not with a cloud the ftars on 
 high, 
 
 From care repofeth every creature now, 
 
 Unftirr'd each flowret, motionlefs each bough, 
 
 Now wrapp'd in (lumber, ocean, earth, and fky ; 
 Lone mother, fable clad, with weeping eye, 
 
 Difhevell'd hair, and heaven-direfted brow, 
 
 Whofe plaints, though utterance grief will fcarce 
 allow, 
 
 Call thy loft child, fo early doom'd to die ; 
 Lady, that ftar to which thy fix'd eyes cling, 
 
 Whofe myftic brilliancy abforbs their gaze, 
 
 It is thy child a ftar in Paradife ! 
 It is thy child who to thy lip conveys 
 
 The air thou breatheft, with angelic wing ; 
 
 A figh from him, which to thine own replies.
 
 1 78 SONNETS. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO A LADY 
 
 Who told me tbat^ being ignorant of Botany , / could 
 not enjoy my Garden. 
 
 I LOVE my garden, though I dare confefs, 
 While wandering free its fragrant flowers 
 
 among, 
 
 To me is pedantry that unknown tongue 
 With which vain fcience mocks their lovelinefs. 
 
 Perfume and flower I love, nor love I lefs 
 
 The fluttering infect, whofe light wings are hung 
 With gold and purple, and the fweet lay fung 
 By thoufand birds who their protector blefs. 
 
 Think thou, who wrong'ft me thus, how fondly I 
 Gaze on thy features, though unfkill'd to fpeak, 
 In learned phrafe, of their anatomy ; 
 
 I love the blufh that mantles o'er thy cheek, 
 I love the fmile of welcome in thine eye, 
 Nor how, nor whence, they come care I to feek.
 
 SONNETS. 179 
 
 HOME. 
 
 >r I ^WAS midnight midnight in a fouthern 
 
 A clime ; 
 
 The moon above the mountains wood and 
 ftream 
 
 And vineyard fhining in her filvery beam, 
 
 As in the funlight of the morning's prime ; 
 The fliade of fragrant orange-tree and lime 
 
 Pierced through with twinkling ftars ; it feem'd 
 a gleam 
 
 Of Heaven o'erfpreading earth, or poet's dream 
 
 By fancy pictured in deluflve rhyme 
 Though mift anddarknefs wrap our northern grove, 
 
 No nightingale to charm the liftening ear, 
 
 Nor purple vines, nor cloudlefs moons above, 
 For fuch I figh not ; this dark atmofphere 
 
 Home gilds and gladdens with the light of love; 
 
 There brighter fkies, but fonder hearts are here.
 
 i8o SONNETS. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN MARTYR IN THE 
 
 COLISEUM. 
 " CHRISTIANOS AD LEONES." 
 
 /CHRISTIAN, come forth ! the hungering 
 V_^ lions crave 
 
 Thy flefh ; impatient waits aflembled Rome, 
 
 Athirft to drink the blood of martyrdom. 
 
 Chriftian, come forth ! and death unfhrinking 
 
 brave ; 
 Whether, within the walls of that vaft grave, 
 
 Torn limb from limb, or in the narrower tomb, 
 
 Thy flefh foul worms and creeping things con- 
 fume, 
 
 A God thou haft omnipotent to fave. 
 Watch we and pray, left us like foes o'erpower, 
 
 Such, though unfeen, do not the lefs exift ; 
 
 Here ftand we not in jeopardy each hour ? 
 That roaring lion, wherefoe'er he lift, 
 
 He walketh, feeking whom he may devour ; 
 
 Him may we, fteadfaft in the faith, refift !
 
 SONNETS. 18 1 
 
 ON THE LOSS OF THE "AVENGER." 
 
 1847- 
 
 WHAT heart unmoved, what eye without a 
 tear, 
 
 The fated (hip can follow in her flight ? 
 As (hoots a tranfient ftar through azure night, 
 Such, on the ocean wave, her brief career. 
 
 That bell's laft tone awoke no boding fear ; 
 'Mid bufy thoughts, 'mid vifions of delight, 
 Wrapt in the paft, or with the future bright, 
 No found, no fign, to warn that death was near. 
 
 O fearful moment ! ftricken as (he fped, 
 
 Her keel rock-pierced, her hull afunder riven, 
 The gallant {hip beftrew'd the fweeping wave. 
 
 An hour mall come more fearful yet, her dead 
 The fea mall yield again ; in mercy, Heaven, 
 Then let their cry come unto Thee, and fave !
 
 1 82 SONNETS. 
 
 ON A LARK WHICH HAD ESCAPED 
 FROM HIS CAGE. 
 
 ACHERISH'D captive, ere thy tender wing 
 As yet was fledged ; through many a fum- 
 
 mer's day 
 
 Thy fong hath charm'd me with its thrilling lay ; 
 Still feem its echoes round thy cage to cling. 
 In this thy narrow realm, a tiny king ! 
 
 Fierce warfare waging with thine infect prey; 
 Creft,beak, and fpur crown, fword, andfceptre 
 
 they, 
 
 A turf thy emerald throne, fay,pamper'd thing, 
 Yon flood of glory can thy fight fuftain ? 
 
 With wing unpra&ifed canft thou heavenward 
 
 foar ? 
 
 Unawed by fpace renew thy wonted ftrain ? 
 Or, like fome fpirit unprepared to quit 
 
 Its cage, the body, doft thou earth deplore ? 
 Thy voice, thy pinion, for the fkies unfit ?
 
 NOTES.
 
 NOTES TO THE HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 w 
 
 NOTE i, PAGE i. 
 WeUs in the faddle isfeated. 
 
 ELLS was a huntfman of the old fchool, whofe like 
 is feldom feen in thefe degenerate days. He appears 
 to have adopted the maxim of the old Cornifh huntfmen 
 " Mafter finds horfe, and I find neck." He doated upon 
 every hound in his pack, with as much fondnefs as a father 
 feels for his children. In the courfe of his career he fraftured 
 his ribs twice, and broke his collar-bone feven times. After 
 living fix-and-thirty years under different managers of the 
 Bedfordshire Hounds, during twenty-four of which he 
 hunted them himfelf, he came to Mr. Wickfted, with whom 
 he remained during the eleven years that he hunted the 
 Woore Country. He was then engaged by Sir Thomas 
 Boughey, and died in his fervice, March soth, 1847. 
 
 NOTE 2, PAGE 2. 
 The Ficar, the Squire or the Major. 
 
 The Rev. Henry Tomkinfon, Vicar of Davenhamj the 
 Rev. James Tomkinfon (the Squire of Dorfold); and Major 
 (now Colonel) Tomkinfon of the Wellingtons. 
 
 NOTE 3, PAGE 3. 
 
 But the favorite evergreen blooming 
 Shall fpring and o'erjbado--w his du/f. 
 
 Mr. Ford was at that time one of the moft a&ive members 
 of the Gorfe cover Committee.
 
 186 NOTES TO THE 
 
 NOTE 4, PAGE 5. 
 While I've health to go hunting <with Charley, 
 
 It was ever Mr. WickftecTs chief delight to know that 
 his hounds had afforded a good day's fport to his friends, 
 though no one enjoyed a run more keenly, or defcribed one 
 with more enthufiafm than himfelf. The " Woore Country" 
 was written in the year 1830, in reply to a fong called the 
 " Chefhire Hunt," of which Mr. Wickfted was the Author, 
 and which, with his permiflion, I have here the pleafure of 
 reprinting. 
 
 THE CHESHIRE HUNT. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Come, awake from your {lumbers, jump out of your bed, 
 Drink your tea, mount your hack, and away to Well Head ; 
 For who'd be behindhand, or like to be late, 
 When Sir Harry's fleet pack at the cover-fide wait ? 
 
 Deny down, down, &c. 
 
 Thofe fons of old Bedford, fo prized by George Heron, 
 So quick at a caft, and fo ready to turn ; 
 If with thefe faft hounds you would play a good part, 
 Both the rider and horfe muft be quick at a ftart. 
 
 Hark ! hark ! they have found him ! who would not rejoice 
 At the foul-ftirring found of old Victor's loud voice ? 
 He's away, I declare ! don't you hear ? there's a hollow, 
 And now we will fee how the gentlemen follow. 
 
 But now let me afk who is thrufting along, 
 So anxious the firft to get out of the throng ? 
 Who's cramming his mare up yon fteep rotten bank ? 
 With the rein on her neck, and both fpurs in her flank ?
 
 HUNTING SONGS. 187 
 
 There's fcarcely a young one, and ne'er an old ftager, 
 For the firft twenty minutes can live with the Major;* 
 Though fuppofing this run for an hour mould laft, 
 I hope he wont find he has ftarted too faft. 
 
 Who, glued to his faddle, with his horfe feems to fly ? 
 'Tis a Lancafhire Lord,f who is worth a " Jew's eye ;" 
 In this run I will wager he'll keep a front feat, 
 For unlefs his horfe (tops he can never be beat. 
 
 With a feat that's fo graceful, a hand that's fo light, 
 Now racing befide him comes Leicefterihire White; J 
 Not yet gone to Melton, he this day for his pleafure, 
 Condefcends to be rural, and hunt with the Chemire. 
 
 Who's charging that rafper ? do tell me, I beg, 
 With both hands to his bridle, and fwinging his leg ; 
 On that very long mare, whole fides are fo flat, 
 With the head of a buffalo, tail of a rat ? 
 
 'Tis the gallant Sir Richard, a rum one to follow, 
 Who dearly loves lifting the hounds to a hollow ; 
 A ftraightforward man who no jealoufy knows, 
 And forgets all his pains when a hunting he goes. 
 
 Then next fnug and quiet, without noife or bother, 
 On ShefEelder comes, the brave Colonel, his brother; 
 He keeps fteadily onward, no obftacle fears, 
 Like thofe true Britim heroes, the bold Grenadiers. 
 
 But who to the field is now making his bow ? 
 'Tis the Squire of Dorfold, on famed Harry Gow ; 
 That preferver of foxes, that friend of the fport, 
 Though he proves no preferver of claret and port. 
 
 * Major Tomkinfon. f The late Earl of Sefton. 
 
 I John White, Efq. Sir Richard Brooke, Bt.
 
 i88 NOTES TO THE 
 
 And who's that, may I afk, who in purple is clad, 
 Riding wide of the pack, and tight holding his prad ? 
 'Tis a bruifing top-fawyer, and if there's a run, 
 The Reftor of Davenham will fee all the fun. 
 
 Now hurtling and buttling, and rolling about, 
 And puftiing his way through the midft of the rout, 
 Little Ireland* comes on, for a front place he ftrives, 
 Through rough and through fmooth he his Tilbury drives. 
 
 Pray get out of the way ; at the fence why fo tarry ? 
 Don't you fee down upon us is coming Sir Harry ?{ 
 And if you don't mind, you may perhaps rue the day, 
 When like Wellington you were upfet by a Grey. 
 
 This Grey he can't hold, though his hand is not weak, 
 And his bit you may fee has a very long cheek ; 
 But if the firft flight he can't keep in his eye, 
 To be thereabouts he will gallantly try. 
 
 Now leaving the crowd, our attention we fix 
 Upon two knowing fportfmen, both riding with fticks j 
 The firft fo renowned on the turf, Squire France, 
 Who on his young Milo will lead them a dance. 
 
 The next is John Glegg, and I really don't brag, 
 When I fay no one better can ride a good nag ; 
 A good nag when he has one I mean by the bye, 
 Do you know who has got one ? he's wanting to buy. 
 
 Now racing along with the foremoft you fee, 
 Quite determined to go, Charley Ford, on the Pea j 
 This moment extatic, this joy of the chafe, 
 His regrets for old Paddy can fcarcely efface. 
 
 * Ireland Blackburne, Efq. -f- Sir Harry Mainwaring, Be.
 
 HUNTING SONGS. 189 
 
 For Walmfley on Paddy has juft now paft by, 
 
 And on him poor Charley has caft a flieep's eye ; 
 
 But ne'er mind, for no pleafure's without its alloy, 
 
 And ibme day you'll again have a good one, " my boy." 
 
 Who's that ? I can't fee, by " his figure I know, tho'," 
 It can't be no other than Hammond* on Otho ; 
 If practice makes perfect, he's nothing to fear, 
 For his nag has been pra&ifed for many a year. 
 
 Going ftraight to the hounds, never known to caft wider, 
 Now comes little Rowley,-f- the fteeple chafe rider j 
 Harry Brooke his antagonift, quiet and fteady, 
 And Stanley^ who always for bufmefs is ready. 
 
 Then there's Squire Harper, whom fome may call flow, 
 But I've feen him ride well when he choofes to go ; 
 Little Jemmy* comes next, and of danger (hows fenfe, 
 From the back of Surveyor, furveying the fence. 
 
 But the pride of all Chefhire, the bold Delamere, 
 Alas ! I can't fliow you, for he is not here ; 
 His collar-bone's broken, don't be in a fright, 
 His fpirit's not broken, he'll foon be all right. 
 
 And now having told you the whole of the field ; 
 All Chemire men true, to no others will yield j 
 Whilft the fparkling bottle is going its rounds 
 Let us drink to Sir Harry Will Head and the hounds. 
 
 * James W. Hammond Efq. of Wiftafton. 
 ( Rowland Warburton, Efq. of Arley. 
 | Hon. W. O. Stanley. 
 James Tomkinfon, Efq. of Davenham.
 
 190 NOTES TO THE 
 
 NOTE 5, PAGE 6. 
 Our glafs a Qutffitum. 
 
 At the Tarporley Hunt meeting, all toafts confidered 
 worthy of the honour are drunk in a " Quaefitum," a name 
 given to the glafles from the infcription they bear, " quaefitum 
 meritis." 
 
 NOTE 6, PAGE 8. 
 He rides you may f wear in a collar of green. 
 
 A fcarlet coat with a green collar is the uniform worn 
 by the members of the Tarporley Hunt. The Tarporley 
 Hunt was eftablifhed in the year 1762, and their firft meet- 
 ing was on the i4th of November in that year. Hare 
 Hunting was the fport for which they then aflembled. Thofe 
 who kept Harriers brought out their packs in turn. If no 
 member of the Hunt kept hounds, or it were inconvenient 
 to Mafters to bring them, it is ordered by the 8th Rule that 
 a "Pack be borrowed and kept at theexpenfeof the Society." 
 
 Their Uniform was a blue frock with plain yellow mettled 
 buttons, fcarlet velvet cape and double breafted icarlet 
 flannel waiftcoat, the coat fleeve to be cut and turned up. 
 A fcarlet faddle-cloth bound fingly with blue and the front 
 of the bridle lapt with fcarlet. 
 
 Sportfmen nowadays are ftill abed at the hour when their 
 forefathers were at the Coverfide. The 3rd Rule declares 
 that " The Harriers fhall never wait for any member after 
 eight o'clock in the morning." 
 
 According to Rule 9, Three collar bumpers were to be 
 drank after dinner, and the fame after fupper ; after that, 
 every member might do as he pleafed in regard to drinking. 
 By another Rule it is ena6led that every member on his 
 marriage prefent to each member of the Hunt a pair of well- 
 ftitched Buckfkin Breeches, the coft of which was at that 
 time one guinea a pair. 
 
 It appears that they commenced Foxhunting about the 
 year 1769, as at that time an alteration in the Rule regarding
 
 HUNTING SONGS. 191 
 
 the Collar Toafts orders that, inftead of three collar glafles, 
 only one fhall be drunk, except a fox is killed above ground, 
 and then another collar glafs mall be drunk to Foxhunting. 
 It was alfo at that time voted that the Hunt change their 
 Uniform to a red coat unbound, with a fmall frock fleeve, 
 a green velvet cape, and green waiftcoat, and that the fleeve 
 have no buttons; in every other form to be like the old 
 uniform, and that the red faddle-cloth be bound with green 
 inftead of blue, and the fronts of the bridles to remain the 
 fame. 
 
 As to the Hunt Races, the earlieft notice of them in the 
 Racing Calendar is in the year 1776. Until the inclofure 
 of Delamere Foreft, they were held on that part of it called 
 Crabtree Green. 
 
 According to their fignatures in the Club Book, the 
 names of the original members, the founders of the Club 
 in 1762, were as follows: 
 
 Obadiah Lane Edw. Emily 
 
 J. Crewe Rich. Walthall 
 
 Booth Grey R. S. Cotton 
 
 Henry Mainwaring R. Wilbraham 
 George Wilbraham 
 
 The fubfequent members were elefted by ballot. This, 
 probably the oldeft Hunt Club that exifts in England, ftill 
 continues to profper, and to retain, amongft the gentry of 
 Chefhire and the neighbouring counties, the fame popularity 
 that it has invariably enjoyed fmce its eftablimment. 
 
 NOTE 7, PAGE 9. 
 Once more a view hollow from old Oulton Lowe ! 
 
 A gorfe cover belonging to Sir Phillip Egerton, formerly 
 in great repute, but which of late years had never held a 
 fox. The Run mentioned in the Song took place on the 
 i6th Feb. 1833.
 
 192 NOTES TO THE 
 
 NOTE 8, PAGE 9. 
 
 The Willing ton Mare. 
 
 The property of Major Tomkinfon of the Wellingtons. 
 She was flaked during the run and died the next day. 
 
 NOTE 9, PAGE 9. 
 
 To fee the Black Squire how he rode the black mare. 
 The Rev. James Tomkinfon of Dorfold. 
 
 NOTE 10, PAGE 10. 
 
 The odds are infighting that Britain beats France. 
 Mr. Brittain of Chefter. Mr. France of Boftock Hall. 
 
 NOTE ii, PAGE 10. 
 
 Little Ireland kept up like his namefake the Nation. 
 Mr. Ireland Blackburne of Hale. 
 
 NOTE 12, PAGE 10. 
 The Maiden 'who rides like a Man. 
 
 Joe Maiden, was Huntfman to the Chemire Hounds, 
 from the year 1832 to 184.5. 1 ^ at capacity, as far as my 
 experience extends, I have never feen his equal. He was 
 moreover as pleafant a companion to ride home with after a 
 run as any gentleman could defire. 
 
 NOTE 13, PAGE 10. 
 In the pride of his heart then the Manager cried. 
 
 Sir H. Mainwaring, who was Manager of the Chemire 
 Hounds for a period of 1 9 years. 
 
 NOTE 14., PAGE 10. 
 Come along Little Rowley. 
 Mr. Warburton of Arley.
 
 HUNTING SONGS. 193 
 
 NOTE 15, PAGE n. 
 The Baron from Hanover hollowed whoo-hoop. 
 
 Baron Often, a Hanoverian, long diftinguiftied as an 
 officer in the Englifh fervice. His hunting accident, and 
 miraculous efcape from a lion in the Eaft Indies, are well 
 known : 
 
 By the king of the foreft, out hunting one day, 
 The Baron was captured and carried away j 
 The king in his turn by the hunt was befet, 
 Or the Baron had been but a Baron-eat. 
 
 NOTE 16, PAGE u. 
 
 Oh ! 'where and oh ! 'where 'was the Wijlafton fleed ? 
 The property of Mr. Hammond, of Wiftafton. 
 
 NOTE 17, PAGE n. 
 The Cejirian Chefnut. 
 The property of Sir Philip Egerton. 
 
 NOTE 18, PAGE n. 
 Where now is DollgoJJi? luhere the Racer from Da'enham ? 
 
 " Dollgofh," belonging to Mr. Ford, and the " Racer," 
 to Mr. James Tomkinfon, of Davenham, were each ridden 
 by their owners. 
 
 NOTE 19, PAGE 13. 
 
 Brown foreft of Mara ! whofe bounds were of yore, 
 From Keljborrow^s Caftle outftretch'd to the fliore. 
 
 " The diftrift extending from the banks of the Merfey 
 to the South boundaiy of the late Foreft, was defignated as 
 the Foreft of Mara, whilft that of Mondrem ftretched in 
 the direction of Nantwich." 
 
 " It appears from Doomfday, that the attention of the 
 
 O
 
 i 9 4 NOTES TO THE 
 
 Earls of Chefter, in the tafte of the fovereigns of the time, 
 had been directed at that early period to forming chafes for 
 their diverfion. The Earl's Foreft is noticed in feveral 
 inftances, and it likewife appears that it was not only formed 
 of lands then found wafte, but that feveral vills had been 
 afforefted for the exprefs purpofe of adding to its limits." 
 OrmerocTs Hiflory of CheJJiire , vol. ii. p. 50. 
 
 NOTE 20, PAGE 14. 
 In right of his bugle and greyhounds tofeize. 
 
 " The Mafter-Forefterfhip of the whole was conferred by 
 Randle I, in the twelfth century, on Ralph de Kingfley, to 
 hold the fame by tenure of a horn." Ormerod, vol. ii.p. 50. 
 
 Amongft the lift of claims afferted by the Mafter-For- 
 refter, are the following : 
 
 " And claymeth to have the latter pannage in the faid 
 Forreft, and claymeth to have windfallen wood * * * 
 
 " He claymeth to have all money for agiftment of hogs 
 within the faid Foreft * * 
 
 " And as to wayfe, he claymeth to have every wayfe and 
 ftray beaft as his own, after proclamation (hall be made and 
 not challenged as the manner is." Ormerod, vol. ii. p. 52. 
 
 NOTE 21, PAGE 14. 
 Wliene'er his liege lord chafe a hunting to ride. 
 
 " Chefhire tradition aflerts that the ancient forefters were 
 bound to ufe this horn, and attend in their office with two 
 white greyhounds, whenever the Earl was difpofed to 
 honour the Foreft of Delamere with his prefence in the 
 chafe." Ormerod, vol. ii. p. 55. 
 
 NOTE 22, PAGE 14. 
 
 // pa/Jed from their lips to the mouth of a Done. 
 The Dones of Utkinton fucceeded the Kingfleys, as
 
 HUNTING SONGS. 195 
 
 Chief-Forefters. On the termination of this line, in 1715, 
 the Forefterihip parted to Richard Arderne, and through 
 him to the Lords Alvanley. 
 
 NOTE 23, PAGE 15. 
 Thou Palatine prophet, ivhofe fame I revere. 
 
 Robert Nixon was born in the parifli of Over. " The 
 birth of this individual," fays Onnerod, " has been afligned 
 to the time of Edward the Fourth, but a fecond ftory alfo 
 exifts, which refers him to the time of James the Firft ; a 
 date palpably falfe, as many of the fuppofed prophecies 
 were to be fulfilled at an antecedent period. 
 
 " He is faid to have attracted the Royal notice by fore- 
 telling in Chemire the refult of the battle of Bofworth, on 
 recovering from fudden ftupor with which he was feized 
 while the battle was fighting in Leicefterihire, and to have 
 been fent for to Court fhortly afterwards, where he was 
 ftarved (or, to uie his own expreflion, clemmed) to death 
 through forgetfulnefs, in a manner which he himfelf had 
 predicted." 
 
 NOTB 24, PAGE 15. 
 
 Afoot with two heels and a hand with three thumbs. 
 Amongft the prophecies of Nixon are the following : 
 
 " There (hall be a miller named Peter, 
 
 " With two heels on one foot." * * 
 " A boy mall be born with three thumbs on one hand, 
 
 " Who mall hold three Kings' horfes, 
 " Whilft England is three times won and loft in one day, 
 " But after this fhall be happy days." 
 
 " Twenty hundred horfes (hall want matters, 
 
 " Till their girths rot under their bellies."
 
 196 NOTES TO THE 
 
 NOTE 25, PAGE 15. 
 Here hunted the Scot <w/iom too 'wife to flow fight. 
 
 King James' diverfion on the Foreft of Delamere, when 
 returning from Scotland, is thus defcribed in Webb's 
 Itinerary : 
 
 " Making the houfe of Vale Royal four days his royal 
 court, he folaced himfelf and took pleafmg entertainment in 
 his difports in the foreft. ****** 
 And where his Majefty, the day following, had fuch fuc- 
 cefsful pleafure in the hunting of his own hounds of a flag 
 to death, as it pleafed him gracioufly to calculate the hours, 
 and confer with the keepers, and his honourable attendants, 
 of the particular events in that fport, and to queftion them 
 whether they ever faw or heard of the like expedition, and 
 true performance of hounds well hunting. At which his 
 Highnefs Princely contentment we had much caufe to re- 
 joice ; and the rather for that the diligence and fervice of 
 Sir John Done had fo profperoufly prepared his Majefty's 
 fports, which he alfo as gracioufly accepted." 
 
 NOTE 26, PAGE 16. 
 Ere Bluecap and Wanton taught foxhounds tojkurry. 
 
 For an account of the race over Newmarket Courfe, 
 between Bluecap, Wanton, and two hounds belonging to 
 Mr. Meynell, for five hundred guineas,^ Daniel's Rural 
 Sports, vol. i. p. 155. 
 
 NOTE 27, PAGE 17. 
 Behold in the foil of our foreft once more. 
 
 By the aft of Parliament for the enclofure of Delamere 
 Foreft, pafled in 1812, one moiety of the whole is allotted 
 to the fhare of the King, to be kept under the direction of 
 the Surveyor General of Woods and Forefts, as a nurfery 
 for timber only.
 
 HUNTING SONGS. 197 
 
 NOTE 28, PAGE 17. 
 Where "t-ivixt the whalebones the widow fat down. 
 
 Maria Hollingfworth, a German by birth, the widow of 
 an Englim foldier. Near two ribs of a whale which flood 
 on Delamere Foreft, (he conftrufted for herfelf a hut, and 
 refided there during feveral years. 
 
 NOTE 29, PAGE 18. 
 Save at the Swan. 
 
 The Swan is the name of the Inn at which the Hunt 
 Meeting is held. 
 
 NOTE 30, PAGE 18. 
 
 France ten to one. 
 
 The Half-bred Stakes at Tarporley had for the ten years 
 previous to 1834., with but two exceptions, been won by 
 Mr. France of Boftock. 
 
 NOTE 31, PAGE 19. 
 " Shades of Sir Peter and Barry look down." 
 
 At one end of the dining room at Tarporley is hung a 
 portrait of the Hon. J. S. Barry, by Crank, and at the 
 other, one of the late Sir Peter Warburton, by Beechey. 
 
 NOTE 32, PAGE 21. 
 A Bedford, a Glofter, to life we rejiore. 
 
 Bedford, Glofter, Nelfon, and Viftory, were the names 
 of hounds in the Chemire kennel. 
 
 NOTE 33, PAGE ^^. 
 
 Mine be the 'warfare unfullied with guilt. 
 " Image of war without its guilt." SOMERVILE.
 
 igS NOTES TO THE 
 
 NOTE 34, PAGE 24. 
 The tent of the Bey. 
 
 This tent was brought by Lord Hill from Egypt. It 
 originally belonged to the famous Murad Bey. 
 
 NOTE 35, PAGE 25. 
 
 We've an Eyton could prove to the Svjitzer. 
 The prize given by Lord Hill was won by Mifs Eyton. 
 
 NOTE 36, PACE 31. 
 
 " The Pifture of the Chemire Hunt," purchafed by 
 Wilbraham Egerton, Efq. now hangs in the Hall at Tatton. 
 
 NOTE 37, PAGE 33. 
 The Breeches. 
 
 This cover, pre-eminent above all the gorfes in the county 
 for the fport it has mown, belongs to John Tollemache, 
 Efq. 
 
 NOTE 38, PAGE 43. 
 
 Drink to the land --where this Evergreen grows. 
 
 " This plant is only to be found in temperate climates. 
 Provence is its boundary to the South, and it reaches neither 
 Sweden nor Ruflia towards the North. Linnaeus lamented 
 that he could hardly preferve it alive in a green-houfe; and 
 fo rare is it in many parts of Germany, that Dillenius, their 
 botanift, was in perfeft ecftafy when he firft vifited England, 
 and faw our commons covered with the gay flowers of the 
 furze bum." Phillip''! Sylva Florifera. 
 
 NOTE 39, PAGE 46. 
 The Tantivy Trot, 
 This fong was written in the year 1834, at the requeft of
 
 HUNTING SONGS. 199 
 
 Charles Ford, Efq. for Cracknall, the Coachman of the 
 Birmingham Tantivy, who once drove it at a fitting one 
 hundred and twenty five miles. Some years after I faw it 
 printed in an article by Nimrod in the New Sporting Ma- 
 gazine, and attributed by him to a young " Cantab." 
 
 NOTE 40, PAGE 48. 
 The Spedre Stag. 
 
 The fubjefl of this ballad is taken from a collection of 
 German traditions in French, there entitled, " La Chapelle 
 de la Foret." 
 
 The tale of a foreft phantom, we are told by Sir W. 
 Scott, in the Preface to his tranflation of the Wild Jager, 
 is univerlally believed in Germany. This phantom has 
 often been the fubjeft of poetry, but the final cataftrophe 
 to the Baron's hunting career, thus defcribed in the legend, 
 I do not recollect to have feen mentioned elfewhere : 
 
 " Voyant le chafleur noir s'avancer droit a lui, il fonna 
 du cor pour appeler fes gens j mais il le fit avec une telle 
 force que les veines fe creverent ; il tomba mort de fon 
 cheval. Ses defcendans firent batir en cet endroit une cha- 
 pelle ou ils fonderent un benefice." 
 
 NOTE 41, PAGE 49. 
 
 " On the flag he 'would have Jlaughter' d t 
 Was his naked body bound" 
 
 The ghoft of another chajjeur, whofe hiftory is given in 
 the fame collection, makes the following confeffion : 
 
 " J'ai fais enchainer et river fur des cerfs plus de cent des 
 malheureux braconniers, les faifant pourfuivre par mes 
 chiens jufqu'a ce qu'ils tombaflent quelque part, et que le 
 malheureux qu'ils portaient rendit 1'ame au milieu des 
 tourmens."
 
 200 NOTES TO HUNTING SONGS. 
 
 NOTE 42, PAGE 67. 
 
 " Rolls o'er the cop and hitches on the rail." 
 " Slides into verfe and hitches in a rhyme." POPE. 
 
 NOTE 43, PAGE 80. 
 Tar-iuood. 
 
 The Run which I have attempted to defcribe took place 
 on the 24-th of December, 1845. The Heythrop Hounds 
 were kept by Lord Redefdale. The " Jem" mentioned in 
 the poem is Jem Hill the Huntfman, and Jack Goddard 
 and Charles are the Whips. " The peculiar feature of this 
 run," lays Mr. Whippy, " was the ftoutnefs and intrepidity 
 of the fox. With the exception of juft touching one corner 
 of Boys- Wood at Cokethorpe, he never once fought fhelter 
 in a cover of any defcription. The diftance from point to 
 point is from 15 to 16 miles, and I am fure the diftance run 
 over muft have been at leaft 20 miles. Time, i hour and 
 4.2 minutes." 
 
 NOTE 44., PAGE 90. 
 
 The flcetch of this feat was made in the year 1833, and 
 the original then exifted in the garden of General Moore, 
 at Hampton Court. 
 
 NOTE 4.5, PAGE 97. 
 
 This ftrange match, fo haftily made and fo quickly 
 decided, took place on the Friday of the Tarporley Hunt 
 week 1854. The competitors were Thomas Langford 
 Brooke, of Mere, Efq. and John Sidebottom, of Harewood, 
 Efq. Davenport Bromley, Efq. was Umpire.
 
 NOTES TO MISCELLANEOUS VERSES 
 AND SONNETS. 
 
 NOTE i, PAGE 144. 
 Geoffrey Rudel. 
 
 EOFFROI Rudel etait devenu tout-a-coup amoureux 
 " de la princefle Melinfende, alors en Paleftine, fur ce 
 qu'il avait entendu raconter a des pelerins de fes vertus et 
 de fes graces. Durant la nuit, durant le jour, en tout temps, 
 en tout lieu, Geoffroi Rudel ne reve plus qu'a cette femme, 
 dont, au gre de fon imagination, il fe figure les traits ange- 
 liques et le parler plein de douceur. Ne pouvant vivre plus 
 longtemps eloigne de cet objet parfait, il monte fur un 
 vaiffeau qui cinglait vers TOrient. Pendant le trajet, aflis 
 a Tombre des voiles fremiflantes, il compofait les romances 
 les plus tendres en Thonneur de Melinfende, qu'il compare 
 a la divinite qu'on adore, bien qu'elle rf ait pas encore frappe 
 les yeux. A cette melodic, a ces vers meles de foupirs, les 
 matelots ravis oubliaient en Tecoutant la rame et les fignaux j 
 et les dauphins, aux ecailles argentees, fuivaient le long 
 fillon de lumiere que le foleil ou Taftre des nuits tra$ait 
 derriere le navire. 
 
 " Mais dans le trouble qui Tagite fans relache, une fievre 
 brulante attife encore les feux d'un amour deregle. Sans 
 repos, fans nourriture, et ne cherchant, au milieu de fa vague 
 contemplation, qu'a repaitre fon ame d'illufions et de chi- 
 meres, il fe confume, il va mourir. Deja fa voix expire ; 
 mais le nom de Melinfende eft fans ceffe errant fur fes levres 
 decolorees. Cette image ideale qui le tient en extafe, lui
 
 202 NOTES TO MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 derobe, comme par enchantement, et la vue de fon danger, 
 et memerimprefliondu mal qui le devore. Lenavire aborde, 
 mais Rudel n'a plus qifun inftant a vivre. L'ami qui 
 1'accompagne vole au palais de Melinfende, et 1'inftruit de 
 fa paflion, du voyage et du peril de Geoffroi Rudel. Oh ! 
 fecond miracle de 1'amour ! A cet exemple de tendrefle et 
 de devouement, cette princefle elle-meme refTent pour celui 
 qu'elle ne connait pas encore un fentiment imperieux qui 
 1'entraine au rivage 5 elle fouleve dans fes bras I'harmonieux 
 troubadour, dont les regards femblent verfer fur elle la 
 langueur et la volupte. II la reconnait. Oui, la voila ! telle 
 et plus belle encore que tant de fois il la vit dans fes reves, 
 qui n'etaient que des presentiments ; la voila ! . . . . 
 et cependant fes yeux prefqu'eteints vont fe fermer pour 
 toujours. O joie trop voifine d'un regret amer, c'eft done 
 vous, s'ecrie-t-il ? A ce mot il baife la main de la princefle, 
 et rend le dernier foupir. On dit qu'a cet inftant fe rompit 
 une corde de fa lyre, et qu'un lugubre murmure circula entre 
 les fycomores de la rive orientale. Melinfende, inconfolable, 
 quitte la cour de fon pere, abjure les grandeurs ; et dans un 
 monaftere, pres du quel elle elevea Rudel un fuperbe maufolee, 
 elle veut confacrer le refte de fa vie a regretter et a pleurer 
 fon cher troubadour." La Gaule Poetique,vo\.\ii, page7z. 
 
 NOTE 2, PAGE 161. 
 
 Thefe Sonnets are conftrufted ftriftlyon the Italian model, 
 both as regards the number of rhymes and the arrangement 
 of the paufes. The difficulty of adhering to thefe re- 
 ftriftions has caufed the prefcribed form of metre to be, with 
 us, rather the exception than the general rule; but it appears 
 as unjuft to give to a poem the title of Sonnet merely becaufe 
 it is confined to fourteen lines, as it would be in archi- 
 tecture to call that a Claflical Column which, though correct 
 in its height, violated in its details all the principles of 
 Ancient Art.
 
 7ERSES AND SONNETS. 203 
 
 NOTE 3, PAGE 168. 
 
 The works of the Clock in Strasbourg Cathedral were 
 reconftrufted by J. B. Schwilgue, in 1842. As it ftrikes 
 twelve, the cock, which furmounts one of the turrets, crows 
 and extends his wings. Under a canopy in the centre are 
 ftatuettes of the twelve apoftles, which revolve round a 
 figure of our Bleffed Saviour. 
 
 NOTE 4, PAGE 181. 
 
 The following account of the lofs of the "Avenger" is 
 extracted from the "Morning Herald." 
 
 " We were running at the rate of ten knots an hour, 
 from Lilbon to Gibraltar, bound to Malta, when, on the 
 night of zoth Dec., at four bells (10 o'clock), in the firft 
 watch, the (hip luddenly (truck on a reef of rocks. At this 
 moment Capt. Napier was on the paddle-box, talking to 
 the mafter. Lieut. Rooke, one of the furvivors, was in his 
 cabin, in the a6t of taking off his coat. The gunner (another 
 furvivor) ran on deck in a ftate of nudity. Immediately 
 (he (truck, all hands rulhed on'deck ; as they did fo, (he 
 heeled over on her broadfide, the mainma(t fell acrofs the 
 paddle-box boat, and no doubt a number of thofe engaged 
 in clearing it away were killed. The crew appeared com- 
 pletely paralyfed ; nothing was heard but now and then an 
 exclamation, ' Oh, God ! Oh, God ! we are all loft.' Heavy 
 feas fwept over the veffel, and fcarcely a man could retain 
 his hold. The laft feen of Lieut. Marryat, was his being 
 wafhed from his hold, and carried away, with fome twenty 
 more, to leeward. At laft, Lieut. Rooke, the purler, lecond 
 mafter, gunner, and four others, contrived to get into a 
 quarter-boat. Here Providence interpofed to lave them ; 
 in lowering the boat the foremaft fall got jammed, and the 
 after one going freely, the boat had her (tern in water and 
 her bows in the air, when a jacket belonging to one of the 
 men fortunately got into the (heave-hole of the after-fall,
 
 204 NOTES TO SONNETS. 
 
 flopped it, and enabled them to cut the falls adrift. After 
 pufhing off from the wreck, they endeavoured to regain 
 her, to render fuch afliftance as was poffible, and to pick up 
 any of the crew ; to approach her they found impoffible. 
 The wind blew a gale from the fouthward. The fea was 
 very high, and breaking completely over her. After 
 remaining as near as they could get for two hours, they bore 
 away for Galita, diftant about fourteen miles; an hour after 
 they had done fo, the wind fuddenly fhifted to the north, 
 and blew harder than it had done from the other quarter. 
 This compelled them to bear up again, which they did, for 
 the coaft of Barbary. On their way they paffed the wreck, 
 over which the fea was making awful fweeps. Soon after 
 day-light they made the coaft of Barbary, having run all 
 night under a fmall lug-fail, and fleered with an oar. In 
 running the boat in, me grounded on a reef, and all hands 
 were thrown out ; the boy, however, regained the boat, 
 kept to her, and drifted afhore alive. Of the remainder, 
 only Lieut. Rooke, the gunner, and fteward, were faved. 
 The others perifhed in the furf. The Arabs treated them 
 kindly, dried their clothes, and gave them warm milk. 
 After a repofe they walked 36 miles, till they could procure 
 horfes, on which they rode to Biferta. Here they received 
 every hofpitality from the governor and the confuls. A 
 boat took them to Tunis, whence Sir T. Reade, the Britifh 
 Conful, fent a defpatch to Malta. The Hecate ftarted 
 immediately for the fatal fpot, whither the Bey of Tunis 
 had already fent veflels, but not a veftige of the wreck re- 
 mained. It is fuppofed that, with the fhift of the wind, 
 me heeled over into deep water and funk. There are from 
 30 to 50 fathoms all round thefe rocks, which are fteep to 
 within a fhip's length. The total number loft is 253." 
 
 CHISW7CK PRESS : C. WHITTINGHAM, TOOJCS COURT, 
 
 CHANCERY LANE.
 
 00 141 374