THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ^*lord, if we credit report, Resolv'd that their visit should not be in vain, Most kindly prepar'd for their sport. descended, died July 20th, 1828, at his house in Grosvenor-place, near Hyde Park Corner. His lordship was born September 19th, 1751, and succeeded his father, George, the late lord, in 1803. No man, probably, ever bred more largely, brought more capital greyhounds into the field, or was more successful in his various contests at SwafFham, Newmarket, &c. The names of all his lordship's greyhounds began with R., and before he came to the title with P. (the initial of Pitt, the family name). For a memoir of his lordship the reader is referred to the Sporting Magazine, Vol. XXII. New Series, page 436. VOCAL CABINET. 25 At Penshurst, blest seat of the Sidneys of old. On the tops of its high toM-ering trees, A liernry for ages, so story has told. Has been rock'd and refresh"d by the breeze. The day was delightful, the harvest all done, And the farmers at rest from their toil, Up the vast arch of Heav"n bright Phoebus had run, And had drank up the pools on the soil. On Chislehurst common, in gallant array, The duke vr'ith his nobles were seen, When the falc'ners prepar"d for the sport of the day, All clad in their liv'ries of green : Their hawks were unhooded and bold for the chase, When high floating in beautiful form, A hern from her quarry Mas mark'd by his grace. When the crowd were like bees when they swarm. A falcon selected was thrown to the wind, A second and third to pursue. While those in reserve were impatient behind. To mount to the game bird in view. The game knew her foes, and increas'd in her flight, Yet boldly prepared to defend ; Tho' her courage was great, yet unequal the fight, For the hern had with three to contend. 26 THE SPORTSMAN'S Ah I this was a moment of matchless delight. The birds were at war in the skies, And the hawks on their pinions exerting their might, To conquer and bring down the prize. Full great was the concourse assembled below. Rich and poor in the pleasure unite. Every breast from his grace felt the rapturous glow. At so novel, so marshall'd a sight. At length overcome with fatigue and despair. The hern strove for life to depart. When the falcon too eager her plumage to tear, Felt her strong pointed beak in his heart. Nor escapd the game a less share of distress. For the while she was wheeling around, The falcon's sharp talons had struck her to death. And they both fell like shot to the ground. The hern"s gaudy top, the pride of our knights, The falc"ner swift tore from its place ; And now amidst shouts and the highest delight. Presented the prize to his grace. The sport being over, my lord with his guest, Return"d to a banquet at Knole, Where they finish'd that day with a liberal zest. Which meanness could never control. VOCAL CABINET. The nobles return'd to their gay Gallic court. And report with the greatest delight, That the Britons were equally brave in their sport, As they were when led on to the fight. The lads of Windsor would set out On the noble diversion of hunting : The heath was black, and the sky was grey. The clouds in many forms did play : What a pleasing diversion is hunting ! Four and forty men and more. Hey ho ! for hunting ; There were tailors by the dozen, and snobs by the score; Farmers a few, and gents, one or two ; Where the heath is so black, and the fences so new, Away they flew ; Such a pleasing diversion is hunting ! There was Davis, and Freeman, Hey ho ! for hunting : With Daniel Cox and Mister Rose ; The deer in the cart, with nottage so smart. To turn him out, Where the heath is so black, and the fences so stout — Halloo and shout, What a pleasing diversion is hunting ! They made the place too hot for him. For they opened the cart behind ; 2s THE SPORTSMAN'S To get hira in had cost much ado, So happy enough away he flew From the heath that's black to the hill that s blue. Soon out of view ; What a pleasing diversion is hunting ! The hunters and hounds stuck close to him, All on the forest of Windsor ; There was Merryman and Ferryman, And all the others that end in " an ;" With Thunderer and Blunderer, And all the others that end in " er ;" Fleet Dairymaid and Merrymaid, And all the others that end in " aid ;" There was Rachel and liluebell. And all the others that end in " el f ' Old Dashaway and Splashaway And all the rest that end in " ay :" And Driver, he drove hiui ofi". And Scentwell he scented him off. And Marksman, he mark'd him off, And C'rier, he cried him off, And Follower, he followed him off, Anil Tracer, he traced him off ; They stuck so close to him, with all their might, While the scent was good, and the day was bright. And just before the setting of night, The stag was brought before their sight ; He found his speed began to droop, So they pulleil him down with who-whoop ! What a pleasing diversion is hunting ! VOCAL CABINET. 29 And then came on the sleet and snow, All on the forest of Windsor: The hunters found it dark and drear. With twenty miles from home, or near, With weary pace they on did drag. The horses were tired, the hounds did lag; Such are the joys of hunting the stag, — Such the diversion of hunting ! The devil take the hindmost all the day. All on the forest of Windsor : Quoth Davis, who thought it small delight, To melt all day, and freeze all night, " The hearth shall blaze, and a bumper or two " Shall warm our noses, which now are blue, " Pleasures renew, " Such as our sports alone can strew :" Such a pleasing diversion in hunting ! Ye sons of dull sloth, who in cities reside. Insipid yourselves, ye our sports may deride ; We envy you not all your honors or wealth. Our object is pleasure united with health. CHORUS. Hark, the horn, see the hounds, and the horses appear. And tan tan tan tivivy, tan tan tan tivivy. And tan tivivy, salutes the glad ear. d2 g(J THE SPORTSMAN'S On the wings of the wind we pursue the fleet hare, Leap gates, hedge, and ditches, forgetful of fear ; Kind echo returns the enlivening sounds, And the welkin is rent with the horns and the hounds. Hark, the horn, &c. Diana, the empress of hunters, thought fit, Her seat "mong the gods in Olympus to quit ; Why tlunk you the goddess and nymphs left the place, But to meet in the woods us gay sons of the chase. Hark, the horn, &c. •Thus steal we through life, in a round of delight. With hunting all day and with bumpers at night ; Then push round the glass to the girl of our heart. And drink till love Mhispers tis time to depart. Hark, the horn, &c. O LIST ! 'tis the horn's joyous sound, Re-echoing over yon hill ; The mountains far distant resound. It gurgles along with the rill. Tt bursts through the valley so fair, It whispers the breeze as it flies. It charms the young sylphs of the air, And pierces the blue vaulted skies. O haste to the joys of the chase. Ye youth of the mountain and vale ; Mount steeds, the most famed for the race. As they snort to the echoing gale. VOCAL CABINET. 31 See reynard, he flies with the wind. He darts through each deep wooded dcll ; He hears the dread war cry behind, He lists to the tally-ho yell. He attempts every art in his power, Perceives all his subtilties vain ; Though death with a frown seems to lour, He scuds Avith fresh speed o'er the plain. He steps Mith the swift brawling brook. And hies his pursuers to foil ; He doubles each brake and each nook ; In vain does he labour and toil. Each hound strains his sinews to lead, Each horse champs his bit with delight ; They skim o'er the sun-gilded mead, And rush with an overwhelming might. Like the swell of the ocean they move. At check as the ebb of the tide ; The wiles of sly reynard but prove, With the fall of the torrent they glide. The lava more fierce rolls along, The crater forth belches its fires ; He falls in the midst of the throng, Terrifically fighting, expires. 3:2 THE SPORTSMAN'S Hark ! Shirewood's old forest resounds, Down Belvoirs fair A-ale it swift flies ; Could Robin* but hear the sweet sounds. From nature's green turf would he rise. Ye sons of the chase, haste away. Ye sons of fam'd Shirewood retire ; Yon orb quits the mansions of day. Your gen'rous steeds they \rill tire. O sportsmen, I bid you adieu. Till sol gilds yon fair eastern sky ; Fresh joy to the chase will acrue, As echoes tlie tally-ho cry. The leaf is red, the leaf is sear, The sunbeams early die ; The swallow leaves her dwelling here. To seek a warmer sky : Then mount and away for the forest glen, I hear its echoes ring. When winter falls on other men. It is the hunter's spring. The leaf is red, the leaf is sear. Then brim the bowl with wine ; What care we for the closing year. Or early eve's decline ? • Robin Hood. VOCAL CABINET. 33 For blithe the vigil hunters keep. Nor heed the daylight gone ; There crimson drops alone shall weep For joys that bless the morn. Oh, then we did ride by the covert side. When the gallant fox stole by. And gave at view, the wild halloo, And heard the opening cry. Ahe trophies dear of that career, With lightsome spirit bring ; No fading scenes of life are here, It is the hunter's spring. When parting at Cobham, his grace let it fall, " Tell my friends I expect them at Knole's ancient hall. To-morrow at seven ; and this understand, Let each bring a neighbour, or friend in his hand : For we mean to be gay, and that time shall give place To the sweets of the bottle, and charms of the chase." Old Time heard the mandate, and pleas'd at the sound, The duke's invitation flew speedily round : The hall was lit up by the great chandelier. And its panels adornd with the spoils of the deer ; Where the tale of Actseon* was painted to life, And the huntress Atalanta,t Meleager's wife. • The tale of Actaeon the hunter, who met his fate for dis- turbing Diana and her nymphs when bathing. t Atalanta who slew the wild boar, and afterwards became the wife of Meleager. 34 THE SPORTSMAN'S But above all the rest, to improve the design, Tha table was coverd with excellent wine. His grace took the chair, as becoming a lord. And these were the lads that sat down at his board Sir Horace below did duty in prime, A better could not be selected by time. Honest Homewood came to partake of the sport, And the Tildeus were there from Old Ifield Oourt ; Next Dering, Sir Edward, the county's delight, Who always stood up for the Kentish mans right ; Then Twisden, Sir Roger, a sportsman more bold. Ne'er cross'd o'er a saddle in heat or in cold. Stout Boghurst was there, who had sat himself down By Symmonds, recorder of Rochester town ; And opposite Whiffle, a talkative elf. Who always was telling strange things of himself, 'Squire' Hoare and young Stanhope from Chevening Place ; And these were the friends that surrounded his grace. (Comport* of the castle, and old brefler Best,+ Wliose butt has been famous from east to the west. Bill Edmeads of Nutsted, and two or three more. The whole in conjunction, might make up a score ; Beside a few stanch hounds, the best of the breed. Which ever were famous for keeping the lead. * Comporlof Cowling Castle. t Best, the famous brewer of Chatham, well known for his ex- cellent " Butt," as it is called. VOCAL CABINET. ?5 A bugle was sounded, the mirth to begin, When bounce went the corks, as the punch was brought in: All forms of distinction were banish'd aside. No thoughts on precedence, the offspring of pride. All, all. was true friendship, that never beguiles, That springs from the heart enliven'd by smiles. The duke claim'd attention, all answer'd, " hush! hush !"" While he held up his bumper, and shew'd them the brush. This sentiment gave (the hall rang with the sound), " All jovial fox hunters ! wherever they're found," Now round flew the toast, and to croM-n it with glee. We demanded the chorus of " three times told three." Thus with high tales of sporting, the hunter's delight, And libations to Bacchus, we shortened the night ; The wine was so potent, the spirit so good, Tl)at to honor the duke we took in a flood : All, all, was good humour, till young squire Hoare, Fell back in his chair, and could take in no more. Now merry Frank Mackwreth, a little afloat, Emptied his glass down the young squire's throat ; This trifle excepted, our joys were complete ; And the bugle now sounds for the guests to retreat.- Upstanding, uncovered, was claim'd from the host. And fresh bumpers were fill'd for Sir Horace's toast. " May health ! peace! and plenty ! still wait on his grace. With a son like himself, and no end to his race !'" Thus ended the meeting, and fox hunters gay. Remounted their steeds, and rode cheerful away. Diana was up, for she knew they must roam. And kindly assisted in lighting them home. .3^ THE SPORTSMAN'S Let abler bards rich trophies raise. To heroes, Greek or Roman ; Pure native themes employ my lays, A royal Kentish bowman ; Our sires supported gavel-kind. With steel and trusty yew, sir. And rightful princes all shall find. We're loyal, firm, and true, sir. CHORUS. l^hen let the foes upon our coast. Attempt a fresh invasion ; " Invicta" still, brave Kent shall boast. Whene'er they give occasion. When Norman William's curfew bell O'er England caus'd a rout, sir. The fire of freedom, annals tell. In Kent was ne'er put out, sir ; And when the fierce usurping duke Held warlike Britons under. In Kent he met with such rebuke. As fiU'd the realms with wonder. Then let, &c. Tow'rds Dover, as on vengeance bent. He march' d in dread array, sir, The valiant yeomen, pride of Kent, Oppos'd him on the way, sir, VOCAL CABINET. 37 So bold and free, our fathers yet. With crafts of war prov'd gifted, Who, AYiHiain's mightier host beset, With oaken boughs uplifted. Then let, &c. Hence ancient Kent, for sword and bow Extoird in martial story, Proud ensigns bore, that we might know, And emulate her glory ; The men of Kent distinction gain'd. When conquering William landed ; Which, left to us, should be maintain'd. As down fi'om them 'twas handed. Then let, &c. Now, bowmen, join with heart and voice, To bless our constitution. Content with ease, and social joys, We wish no revolution ; We fear no foreign hostile band, Nor home-bred vile commotion ; Kent's royal patron guards the land, May Surry's rule the ocean ! Then let, &c. What, though the hunter's horn is mute, The wild halloo no longer heard ; Though fox nor hound is now a-foot, And no one wears the scarlet suit, E 38 THE SPORTSMAN'S And no one wings a bird : Yet still young May doth don a dress That shines a thing of loveliness In raptur'd sportsmen's eye ; Not, not alone, for the sweet rose That now first owns the summer's sun, Not for the blossoms they descry, From spring's full flow'ry lap just won ; But that she calls them to the plain. And beckons to the stream. And, joying in her genial reign, Bids heart and hope to beam : Oh ! then there is something the sportsman to cheer, Though winter is gone and the May-days are here. Then, sportsman, to the course, the course. For there is the " high-mettled" steed ; Or bend thy steps to the river's source. When 'tis rippled by the south wind's force. And the spotted trout do feed ; Ay, hie thee on, these are of May, And make of their spirit aholyday. Nor think of the covert and fields : You sure must love the cheerful scene, All crowded o'er with busy life. Which the peopled race-course yields ; The stately steed with spirit rife. His eye a blaze, his nostril flame, (Eager as are thenew-slipp'd hounds,) His bursting veins, his rider, fame. His port, his speed, his bounds : — VOCAL CABINET. 39 These, these to the sportsman's spirit are dear, Though winter is gone and the May-days are here. Or the banks of some peaceful stream, If thoulovest a quiet joy. Will bid tliee forget the tedious dream. The struggle of life for fortune's beam, Which the worldly-wise employ. O'erbower'd with newly budding trees And kiss'd by the gently fiinning breeze, How sweet is the fisherman's haunt ! Life's struggles do not reach him there, And there ambition is forgot ; There dwells no pride, there springs no taunt. Nor pining for a prouder lot. Then let the prey in covert rest, Tlie game nestle in field and wood. And change the scarlet for fisher's vest. The stubble and chase for tlie flood : For kindly doth nature to sportsmen appear. Though winter is gone and the May-days are here. Come, you who love the pastime of the fields. And hear a brother sing their charms with glee ; Of joys the pheasant to the sportsman yields, When yellow autumn tints the forest tree. Farewell the partridge, and the stubble field, A loftier game our busy thoughts employ, I sing the charms the fading coverts yield. When from the town we fly for sylvan joy. 40 THE SPORTSMAN'S Nor lose we little by the hasty change, For there, we leave behind the source of ill ; But here, the wliile tlie rural vvalks we range. Nature and health defy the doctor's pill. Tlie shady woods our sober steps invite. Through thickets dress'd in golden autumn's pride. To see our spaniels range, a pleasing siglit ! To lazy sluggards and to sots deny'd. The painter's art is studied to surprise : To balls and plays, let other sportsmen run. What scene can equal wlien the pheasants rise. And blaze their beauties to the brilliant sun ? And thus disturb'd, they mount tlie devious way. Now high in air, tliey ply the whirring wing. That glittering gaudy in the face of day. Presents a sight to gratify a king. Through mimic thunder flies the leaden death. And now to make our sylvan joys complete. Our well-bred spaniels, panting out of breath. Display the feather'd treasure at our feet. Such is the manly sport that care defies, Let us enjoy it (fortune) to the end. And share the pleasure with tlie lads we prize. For what is life ! or wealth ! without a friend ! Now raise the l)umper to the fervid lip, Let Chloe's name be usher to the glass, , And ere the moments from our mem'ry slip, ^"^ Let ev'ry sportsman give his fav'rite lass. VOCAL CABINET. 41 Keep silence, good folks, and I pray you attend, For Fm no common singer you'll find in the end ; Tally-ho, &c. I'm a hunting physician, and cure ev'ry ill, Disorders and pain, without bolus or pill. Tally-ho, &c. Let the man who's distarb'd by misfortune and care, Away to the woodlands and vallies repair ; Tally-ho, &c. Let him liear but the notes of the sweet swelling horn, With the hounds in full cry, and his troubles are gone. Tally-ho, &c. Let the lovers who secretly simper and sigh, And droop at the sight of a blue or black eye, — Tally-ho, &c. Brush up to 'em boldly and try 'em again. For women love sportsmen, as sportsmen love them. Tally-ho, &c. Should you chance to be bless'd with a termagant wife. Who instead of the joy, is the plague of your life ; Tally-ho, &c. When madam her small shot begins to let go. Why draw on your boots and away, tally-ho. Tally-ho, &c. e2 42 THE SPORTSMAN'S Ye poor forlorn devils, oppress'd with the hip, Who thus the sweet moments of pleasure let slip, Tally-ho, &c. As soon as the whimsy your fancy surrounds, You have nothing to do, but get after the hounds. Tally-ho, &c. Come here, ye old codgers, whose nerves are unstrung. Come follow the hounds, and you'll hunt yourselves young ; Tally-ho, &c. 'Twill cure the short cough, and the rheumatic pain, Do but cry tally-ho, and you're all young again. Tally-ho, &c. If death, that old poacher, to smuggle you strives. Get astride on your saddle, and hunt for your lives ; Tally-ho, &c. Never heed his grim looks if your gelding can go, You cannot be caught while you cry, tally-ho. Tally-ho, &c. Hark, away to the woodlands, for hear the blithe horn, Makes cheerful the welkin resound ; What pleasures can equal the sports of the morn. Where blithe yelps the mettlesome hound. CHORUS. To the chase then let's hasten nor longer delay. While echo re-echoes the cry — hark away. VOCAL CABINET. 43 Rosy health ne'er forsakes the gay sports of the field, When all cheerful a hunting we go ; For the joys of the chase no one pastime can yield, Such pleasure as it doth bestow. To the chase, &c. &c. What is life without pleasure ? a station, at best, Surrounded with troubles, and care. Where the mind, like the ocean, is seldom at rest, But when sleep lulls the pangs of despair. Then let us, Avhile fortune permits us to stay, With innocent pleasures solace. And the calls of the horn in the morning obey, And join in the charms of the chase. 'Twas a lesson first taught by our princes of old, As a cure for the toils of the state : By Alfred the gen'rous, and William the bold, And by Edward, and Henry the great. Then let such examples to-day be our pride, Dull indolence serves to debase. While activity's efforts with friendship allied. Give zest to the charms of the chase. The rattles of riot let blockheads attend, And the follies of vanity's schools ; Pursuits that the libertine strives to defend, — While wisdom consigns them to fools. 44 THE SPORTSMAN'S We sportsmen delight to skim o'er the lawns, And escape where night frolics disgrace, And kiss bright Aurora as soon as she dawns. To enliven the lads of the chase. The bottle may raise up the spirits awhile. But where 'tis too amply applied, The strength of the liquor is sure to beguile. And the man's to a monster allied. Then who'd be behind while the M-oodland invites. And sink down to unmanly disgrace ? The sensualist only, who ever delights In all but the charms of the chase. Come, certainly turn all those vices and follies aside, A kind Lethe you'll find for your care, And above all the rest, which no rake can provide, A form worth the arms of the fair. Such raptures as these shall actirity M'ait, And felicity mantle the face Of the sportsman who flies from the tables of fate,* To be blest with the charms of the chase. THE huntsman's LAST REQUEST. As for me, now old age and infirmities blend, Let my fellows (I modestly crave). With the bier that conveys to the churchyard, attend. And give the death shout+ at my grave. • The gaming tables. t The death halloo used by sportsmen. VOCAL CABINET. 45 Tom's will was obeyed, and the lads of the chase. With many bold sportsmen of worth. Attended tlie bier to mortality's place, With a shout as they put him to earth. Tho' far from field sports, we will field sports apply, Hark ! hark ! social sportsmen, hark forward and try ; Nor think we want game, tlio' we're settled in town. Its follies are game, which we here will hunt down. We break cover first, and throw off 'mong the great, By babblers surrounded, called flatt'rers of stale j Whip them otf, for they're vermin unworthy a chase, Their patrons' dishonour, and bounty's disgrace. Like pageants, the nimrods of nabobs behold ! 'Midst all they have purchasd by strange-gotten gold ; Tho' large packs of livery couples they own. When conscience starts up, can they all hunt it down ? In French varnish' d chariots, see quacks drawn along. Like death looking down on their iklims, the throng ; With tales of their med'cines each paper abounds. Hunt their nostrums j — no, no! — they would poison our hounds. Disappointment against the successful exclaims. And envy will alwajs make uproar call names. Those pests of the public to clamour make court, — To kennel such curs, for they only spoil sport. 46 THE SPORTSMAN'S The outs 'gainst the ins will for ever take aim, And ministers must be the multitude's game ; 'Tis tempests and tides which preserve the pure sea, We soon should be stagnate if all should agree. Beat about for fresh sport, thro' yon hall let us draw, It abounds in black game, and that game is the law ; Call the dogs off, I say, — there have nothing to do, — If you meddle with them they'll soon turn and hunt you. We're at fault, but whose is it ? come, sportsmen, try back. Hark to honesty, that's the prime hound in our pack ; We are all sound and stanch, for a brisk burst prepare, Tally-ho ! 'tis a bumper — fill free and drink fair. Here's the queen of our hunt, 'tis Britannia'' s our boast. Old England for ever ! let that be the toast : See, a fresh bottle starts, one view halloo ; — huzza! The/oic brush, and beauty s brush, brush them away. My hawk is tir'd of perch and hood, My idle greyhound loathes his food My horse is weary of his stall. And I am sick of captive thrall ; I wish 1 were, as I have been. Hunting the hart on forests' green, AV'ith bended ])ow and bloodhound free. For thafs the life is meet for me. I hate to learn the ebb of time. From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime. VOCAL CABINET. 47 Or mark it as the sun beams crawl, Inch after inch along the wall. The lark was wont my matins ring, The sable rook my vespers sing ; These towers, although a king's they be. Have not a hall of joy for me. No more at dawning morn I rise, And sun myself in Ellen's eyes. Drive the fleet deer the forests through. And homeward wend with evening dew ; A blithesome welcome blithely meet. And lay my trophies at her feet ; While fled the eve on wings of glee. That life is lost — to love and me. Look, look ! brother Bob, to the meadows below, Over-arclied by that rainbow so briglit, And covered with lady-smocks whiter than snow, What a gay, what a delicate sight ! And the river, how briskly it prattles along, "Neath those willows that kiss the clear stream ; And hark I to the nightingale ! sweetly in song, While the ousel-cock joins in his theme. That crowd of young sportsmen, how brisk they appear, With their sharp pointed spears raised on high. To dart at the otter that wantons so near ; For 'tis fit that the tyrant should die : 48 THE SPORTSMAN'S He's a foe to our sports, and the angler's hate, Not a fish but he seeks for his prey ; He's a check to our labours, for early or late, He bears the rich morsel away. Come, let us away, and join the blithe throng : See ! see he comes up for a vent ; And hark to the pack, how they carol along. Till the air with their music is rent : That spear-man how manly he handles the dart, How skilful the weapon he throws ; The point of the spear has now cnter'd the heart, And there's one less to league with our foes. Through strong breathing brass the welkin loud rings. They've brought the dead culprit to land ; As the conquest spreads round on felicity's wings. The rustics rejoice with the band : Not an angler but sought the bold glutton with hate. And exults in the watery chase ; Not a creature to-day but grows glad at his fate. And longs to extinguish the race. Sage Walton and Cotton the otter despised. As a check on tlie pleasures of man ; And thought it a pity the race were devised, When time the creation began. Tlic shorn monks of Waltham held once a dispute, Ere their lent and their fist day began,— if the otter should class with the fish or the brute. Or their flesh be a dainty for man. VOCAL CABINET. 49 The church soon declared him unfit for their dish, And quickly spread round their report. And from that day to this, he's rejected as fish. And for hunters become the fi'ee sport. Now let us away where good liquors abound. O'er the death of the otter we'll sing. May the fiends of destruction, wherever they're found, Make sport for the people and king. Attend, brother sportsmen, your tribute I crave, A tear on the sod of poor Tally-ho's grave ; You, who often have smiled at his innocent mirth. Won't refuse him a tear now he's slipped into earth. No more when the hounds are unkenneled at morn. Shall we hear the loud blast from his shrill-sounding horn; No more hear the halloo, the old sportsman gave. For green grows the sod on poor Tally-ho's grave. Should the chase chance to lead 'mid the forest's drear gloom. Where the tears of the morning shine bright on his tomb ; You will not refuse the sad tribute I crave, A tear on the sod of poor Tally-ho's grave. No more the old sportsman at morning we meet. Whose smiles once made cheerful this forest retreat ; The gallant old horseman has yielded his breath. His covert is found in the mansion of death. F 50 THE SPORTSMAN'S For see ye yon mound where the moon-beams now play, AVhere the wild flowers grow, and the moss looks so gay. Where the sad weeping Avillow its foliage doth wave, — 'Neath those wild flow'rs and moss is poorTally-ho's grave. Then free from care, from pain, and sorrow, Haste to the thorny down to-morrow ; There shall our steeds outstrip the wind. And time and age creep far behind : No longer vigils of love we keep. No evening cares disturb our sleep ; But e'er the sun has mounted the skies. Fresh as the dawn we gaily rise. Then, &c. &c. Behold from France yon petit maitre. Thus exclaims the puny creature, Comment-ce .■' sortir avant Vaurore, Sans dejeune? — 'tis one great bore! Such trifling fops can never know From the brisk chase what pleasures flow ; Joys above those of power and wealth, — Vigour of mind and rosy health. The muckworm cit, who rolls in riches, ('urses the abates, the woods, and ditches ; What! for a vermin vile, he cries. Venture your necks and Mound your eyes : But we can tell the wary Jew, We have douceurs, and premiums too, Bacchus at night our temple warms. And Venus gives us all her charms. VOCAL CABINET. 51 Hill and dale with music sounding, Every heart with joy rebounding ; What transports in our bosoms glow. When tirst we hear the tally-ho : Bridegroom and Bachelor lead 'em on, Soon they give way to riofs tong-ue ; See thro" the wood young Harold tries, Old Warbler roars, and Wilful cries. Check" d by sheepfolds in the valley, Men of weight find time to tarry ; Mopping his front and double chin, Each heavy Blue comes puffing in : Juniper scents him down the way. Magpies and crows his path betray ; O'er the woods, meads, and chalky soil, The villain runs his tainted foil. Fatigued, at length he seeks the village, Where of late he roamed to pillage ; Midst his old haunts he finds no friend, And Joe's who-whoop proclaims his end : My rhymes now o'er, once more excuse Your ancient laureat's limping muse ; And here in Diaua"s jovial court, Drink in full cups the noble sport. Aurora has harness'd the horses of light, And smiles on the hills with a g'race ; The hounds are unkennel'd, the bugles invite. To partake of the joys of the chase. 52 THE SPORTSMAN'S Hark forward, old reynard has made for the field, Since his earth is stopp'd up in the park ; Then away to the pleasures which hunting' can yield, And join in the chorus — hark ! Rattler, hark, hark ! Then away, &c. Ye lovers, let Venus to Dian give place. And for once barter heaven for earth ; Then away from the sweets of each charmer's embrace. Hark forward to pleasure and mirth. Ye misers, no longer your spirits perplex, Leave your gold in the mouldering sack; Oer some hedge, gate, or gap, break your d — d worthless necks. Or else live to repent and set up a good pack. O'er some hedge, &c. Ye doctors, to cover, hark forward with speed, Leave your canes, lay your wigs on the shelves ; If ye don't deal in health to poor patients in need. Ye may purchase some share for yourselves. Ye grave politicians, whose learned debates. Prove your intellects misty as night ; Who knows but a fall on your iron-bound pates, Your brains may unravel and set them to right. Who knows, &c. Saddle Pegasus, poets, and hither repair, Elysian pleasures invite ; Quit Helicon's fountain and rivers so fair, We'll regale you with Bacchus at night. VOCAL CABINET. 53 To baclielors" hall, ye fain'd aldermen rush, Join the party and jovially drink ; 'Stead of claret, strong punch, well stirr'd round with the brush. And a rich hunting ptulding shall fill up each chink. "Stead of claret, &c. Let the soft petit maitre, with saddle bran new, Bring his lap-dog to help in the chase. Ride a mile round the ditches, which straight we pursue. Or bewail a slight scratch on the face. Then forward, hark forward, while Phcebus shines bright, The music, my lads, only mark ; The hounds are unkennel'd, the bugles invite. Join the chorus, — hark ! Rattler, hark ! hark ! The hounds, &c. Descend, ye chaste Nine ! strike the chord you love best, f "ve a theme that will put your high notes to the test : I've a chase to describe, that assuredly Avill Rouse the dead from the graves, with hurra ! for Fox-hill. Ballj'namona — ora. The hounds of Ralph Lambton for me ! We shall ever remember that glorious day. When to Long Newton village we rattled away : Every hound seem'd that morning, by instinct, to know, That the Long Newton* country would give us a go. Ballynamona— ora, &c. * The southern district of the Sedgefield country. F 2 54 THE SPORTSMAN'S Burn Wood M'as drawn blank, but we cared not a rap, (Though we all thought it smelt h — h strong of a trap ;) For we knew that a rallying point* we could make, Where a thoroughbred son of old CcBsar would break. Ballynamona — ora, &c. Scarce the hounds were in covert, when oif reynard stole: How high beat each heart ! how transported each soul ! Every hound in its place, and, to give them their due. Over Newbiggin bottoms like pigeons they flew. Ballynamona— ora, &c. By Sadberge and Stainton he now bent his Avay, For Elstobt aiforded no shelter this day ; Little Stainton then gain'd, but he durst not look back, So close at his brush laid this brilliant pack. Ballynamona— ora, &c. Next pointing for Whitton, by Hillington Mill, One or two boasted clippers were fain to stand still ; But remember, my boys, with a Long Newton fox It don't do to lark when they're up to the hocks. Ballynamona— ora, &c. O'er the fam'd Seaton hills M'ith what vigour he flew, Determin'd to prove himself thorough true blue ; Sterns down ! bristles up ! 'twould have done your hearts good To have seen this stanch pack running frantic for blood. Ballynamona — ora, &c. * Fox-hill, a celebrated fox covert. t A fox covert burnt down. VOCAL CABINET. 55 By Thorp, Thewls, and Grindon we rattled like smoke. And the hounds gaining on him at every stroke, He, disdaining Thorp \\'ood should his destiny mark, Droppd his brush, and died vermin in Wynyard Park. Ballynamona — ora, &c . Fill ! fill ! ye brave fellows, that rode in the run ! May the pack add new laurels to those they have won ! At my toast how each bosom with ecstacy bounds. Long life to Ralph Lambton ! success to his hounds ! Ballynamona— ora, The hounds of Ralph Lambton for me. Hark, the horn, from the valley, how lively it peals. And beats from the cavern around to the hills, How sweetly does echo repeat her own mocks, And how melting the murmur that dies in the rocks. Each note is a warning to join the career. And a signal that summons the sun to appear. Behold in the east, the clouds sever" d with light. How glorious the prospect that bursts on the sight, A tumult of gladness plays round the warm heart, And the spirit of ecstacy throbs in each part : The air courts the sense as it steals o'er the field, Enrich'd with the fragrance the rose-thickets yield. On his roost the shrill cock, early herald of morn. Flaps his wings and proclaims the sun"s welcome return. The lark mounting sings, and the sweet warbling thrush. Her dulcet song carols from the low hawthorn bush ; For the op'ning the coursers impatiently pant, And the deep-scented hound longs the onset to chant. 55 THE SPORTSMANS But see, from his covert the fox slowly creep. And steal, leering backward, along the wood's steep. niat halloo, proclaims him discover'd! he sees Flight's the refuge remaining, and runs with the breeze, Away in pursuit !— we'll his vestiges trace. And mix with the clamours that chorus the chase. Hark ! hark the hunting horn Salutes the blushing morn ; While springing from the corn The skylark wings his way. Hear ! hear the hounds' loud cry, (While men and horses fly,) Proclaims a fox must die. Must breathe his last to-day, to-day. Must breathe his last to-day. See ! see how faint he runs. Nor can the death hounds shun ; His wily race is done, The tear-drop dims his eyes ! Hark ! hark the hunters' shout. Declares beyond a doubt, Hh lamp of life is out,— Poor reynard, reynard dies! he dies! Poor reynard, reynard dies ! Come ! come, my good fellows, attend to my song, And 111 learn you the way to live happy and long ; Throw ! throw off the tricks of the dull smoky town, To rise with the lark, and lie down M'ith the clown. VOCAL CABINET. 57 With your pointers and gun, to the stubbles repair, To bring down the partridge, or fleet scudding hare ; To start the gay pheasant, in woodland conceald. For there's nothing gives health like the sports of the field. The doctor to this, boys, will never agree. It deprives him of practice, and lessens his fee ; To his skill and his prattle no credit bestow. But leave him to botch up the musty old beau ; Or to wait on my lady, who fancies she's ill, And always in search of a medical pill : For the whole of my life I ne'er valued his lore. But rejected his drugs, and can hunt at fourscore. The merchaut may toil from morning till night, And all turn to profit, that turns to his siglit ; But what are his profits when health is no more, E'en tho' they amount to old Croesus's store ? When pang'd with the gout, he sits down to repent, And wishes his youth in the fields had been spent. Looks up to the sportsman with health in his face, And thinks with a sigh on the charms of the chase. Thus you see, my good fellows, my thesis is true, A sedentary life is the worst to pursue ; It brings on infirmities, sorrows, and strife. And is sure to effect an abridgement of life : Then who'd spend his days, who is favour'd with sense, In hoarding up nought but pounds, shillings, and pence ? Then fly from the town to the lawns and the farm. Where the beauties of nature have plenty to charm. 58 THE SPORTSMAN'S Tlien mount your brisk coursers, and fly to the fields, And partake of the bliss that activity yields ; Leave the dull plodding drudge to his ledger behind. And the prig of the law courts to trouble mankind, AVhen \Finter approaches to drench from his urn, And the finger of time shews the way to return, You'll own that our sports leave no stings to annoy. And the charms of your Chloe with raptures enjoy. Oft the bards of old times, and the minstrel's gay strains. Have the sports of the chase, all transcendant, reveal'd, Sung of Nimrod's exploits on the wide spreading plains. And from Dian's bright charms trac'd the charms of the field ; Whilst the turf's native green, Everhallow'd has been, And a contest more glorious enliven' d the scene ; When the high-mettled racer, proud, pamper'd, and gay. Bore the meed of his prowess triumphant away. These sports are confin'd to no climate or shores. But regions remote shall new patrons secure them ; Like the orb in the east, which all nature adores. They have dawn'd on our land, and 'tis ours to mature them ! No longer a waste. As in rude ages past, Shall our turf i)e forsaken by beauty and taste. But impart to the liigh-mettled racer, so gay. Fresh ardour to bear the proud trophy away. VOCAL CABINET. 59 The smiles of the fair, like springs fostering breath, Shall rear the young scion, and teach it to shoot ; Round the temples of beauty we'll twine the fresh wreath. And love's hallow'd altars shall teem with the fruit. Then leave cynics to rail, Our voice shall prevail. And the sons of the turf their fair favourites hail I Whilst long for their sakes shall the sports of to-day. The hig'h-mettled racer's fleet prowess display. When these plaudits are lost in the arch of high heav'n, A strain more exalted shrill echo shall send ; "Tis the suffrage of gratitude, cordially giv'n, To our patron, our chief, our protector, and friend ! To him whose calm voice Wakes his people rejoice ; That the friend to mankind is their sovereign's choice ! And long may his mild and beneficent sway. Enhance, whilst it sanctions, the sports of to-day!* Bright Phoebus in his chariot borne. Had scarce proclaim" d tlie approaching morn : Scarce had the lark's terial flight Proclaim' d the banishment of night. And with its sweet melodious lay, Haild the long wished for, " Hark away ;" When, fi-om his drowsy bed, up sprung Chloris, to join the jovial throng, * Sung at Wills's, on occasion of Sidney races, New South Wales, IS 10. 60 THE SPORTSMAN'S Assembled in the hall, Sees with delight hounds, horses, men. Eager to try the dewy glen. And hear the huntsman's call. Rapturous he hears the merry sound. The bugle-horn, the deep-toned hound. Inspire his eager breast ; " Halloo ! hark forward !" is the cry, " This day, this day a fox must die," Broke through his slumbering rest. No longer can the youth refrain. But leaping from his couch amain. With joyful heart, he cries, " John! John! away, the morn is fair, " Saddle my hunting chesnut mare, " This day bold reynard dies." Quick on the saddle Chloris sprung. Eager to join the jovial crew ; Hears with delight the hound give tongue, And sees them snuffing up the dew. Reynard, forsaken and forlorn. Hears the loud clang, the bugle-horn ; Hears from behind the murd'rous cry. Which urges him in vain to fly. Now here, now there, now looking back. He sees behind the panting pack ; In vain each earth he tries ; alas ! All are stopped up ; he cannot pass ; No covert near, no blooming heath, Closely pursued, he yields his breath. VOCAL CABINET. 61 The cliase given o"er, the jolly band, Around the board, now take their stand ; " Fill to the brim,'' re-echoes loud. From every voice within the crowd. " Diana, goddess of the chase, " With three times three, in cups we grace, " And all her hunting train ; " One bumper more, one parting glass, " First to fox hunting, then your lass, *' Until we meet again." O ! LIST to the sound of the horn. It swells on the light flowing breeze ; It hastens the breaking of morn, And trembles the dew on the trees. What feelings the bosom dilate. As, bursting, it swells on the ear ! So happy, so mildly elate. We think not of danger or fear. But on the gay mettlesome steed. As champing the bit with delight. We fly at the point of his speed. And gain the assemblaged height- That echo ! see yonder he flies. How quickly he speeds o'er the plain : His heart every cunning contrives, Ahis ! all his cunning's in vain. G 62 THE SPORTSMANS Thro" vallies undaunted he bounds, 0"er uplands he measures his head : Still hears he the cry of the hounds, It strikes on his bosom with dread. He stays for a moment to breathe, He listens with throbbing affright : lu quickness alone can he live. He flies, "tis the ebb of his might. As joyfully follow the pack. The falcon, when soaring above. Not more patiently views the sad track. Where his victims unconsciously move. So eager they snuff up the scent. So eager they press him behind ; So stern on the chase are they bent. They fly on the wings of the wind. In vain has he sped o"er the plains. The last spark of strength disappears ; As the taper's expiring remains, A gloomy obscurity rears. Tho' fierce as the storm howls along. And bellowing, thunders the vale ; Yet louder triumphing the throng, They stun e'en the blustering gale. VOCAL CABINET. 63 Now «-arbles the horn iu the glade, Now thickens the tumult around ; The hurst of the raging cascade, Would cause not a mightier sound. How thunder the chase at his heels. How vengefully tremble their throats ; He totters, he staggers, he reels. He dies, "midst the echoing notes. On, had you but seen, near the stone they call Blarney, The sportsmen set off to the lake of Killarney! Oh, that was the day, soon the fox was in sight, And great, O, my soul, was our joy and delight ! We were all in full glee— 'twas a beautiful morn. And echo struck up a duet with the horn. Cries tlie horn, " How d"ye do?" " Mighty well, I thank you.'" Oh I a glorious duet 'twist the echo and horn. Away Paddy Rafferty dashed o"er the plain, His fine mettled horse devil a bit could he rein ; Till the rude vicious beast, by a sly ugly twitcli. Neck and heels soused poor Paddy plump into a ditch I \Vhile the oaths and the screams, as he lay there forlorn, Made a curious duet for the echo and horn : " Dam'me there he lies flat!" " Fait, and you may say that." Oh ! the curious duet twixt the echo and horn. 64 THE SPORTSMAN'S I AM a jolly bowler, Of the free-thinking club; And all my notes are fly, fly, fly, Rub, rub a thousand, rub. And a bowling we will go, &c. There's ne'er a set of bowlers So far or near renown' d ; We twist and screw, and with grimace. We coax the bowl around. And a bowling, &c. We have the finest bowling-green. There's none with us can vie ; No void of mugs, or pots, and jugs. To drink when we are dry. And a bowling, &c. The rudiments of sciences In bowling may be found ; For 'tis in vain to think to bowl, 'Till you first know the ground. And a bowling, &c. From bowling we may learn too. The patience of a Job ; For as in bowling, so in life, We bear with many a rul). And a bowling, ikc. VOCAL CABINET. What trifles men contend for, In bowling's understood ; Where mortals sweat, and fret, and vex, About a piece of wood. And a bowling, &c. Tlie fickleness of fortniie In emblem here is seen ; For often those that touch the block- Are thrown out of the green. And a bowling, &c. Of courtiers and of bowisrs, The fortune is the same ; Each jostles t'other out of place, And plays a sep'rate game. And a bowling, &c. In bowling, as in battle, The leader's apt to claim The glory to himself alune, Tlio' the followers get the game. And a bowling, &c. A challenge from the best, We value not a straw. But first and second too must yield, If we do once but draw. And a bowling, &c. g2 66 THE SPORTSMAN'S The jack is like a young coquet ; Each bowl resembles man ; They follow wheresoe'er she leads. As close as e'er they can. And a bowling, &c. What tho' they fetch a compass round. The bias draws them in ; And lie that lies the closest to't. Cock-sure he is to win. And a bowling, &c. Alas! here's one that knocks it off. And touches to a hair ; Hold, hold, an inch— your tongue, you dog A pox ! I can't forbear. And a bowling, &c. Here, quickly bring a reed, boy, And measure it out of hand ; The case is clear, 'tis lost, 'tis lost. You cannot make it stand. And a bowling, &c. For tho' in other gaming A blockhead be in jest, Yet he that's nearest to block-head. In bowling is the best. And a bowling, &c. VOCAL CABINET. 67 Tlien to the Rose !— of bowling Now we have had our fill : Let us lay aside our jack, boys, And each man take his gill. And a bowling, &c. From Noalf s great grandson, our order we trace. Who invented, and taught us to follow the chase. By which, health and vigour we always embrace. O ! the brave bucks of old England, And O ! the old English brave bucks. Then let us the steps of our founder pursue. And do as the jolly old Buck used to do, Let's follow his maxims with hearts firm and true, O ! the brave bucks of old England, And O ! the old English brave bucks. And first, let us do nothing mean, or by stealth. But, as industry's always productive of wealth. Put our hands to the plough, 'tis conducive to health. O! the brave bucks of old England, And O ! the old English brave bucks. The buck, who would never with antlers betippd, Must be conscious he never another's doe leap'd. But with innocent freedom be always equipped. O ! the brave bucks of old England, And O ! the old English brave bucks. 68 THE SPORTSMAN'S Unanimity renders society sweet, Our strengtli it increases whenever we meet. And makes our fraternity truly complete. O ! the brave bucks of old England, And O ! the old English brave bucks. Each buck in his station submits to the sway. Of the grand buck, most noble, and never says " nay," But when calPd on, we cheerfully cry " we ob«y." O ! the brave bucks of old England, And O ! the old English brave bucks. The day's hunt when over, each jolly buck liies, To the chase of the bottle, and jovially cries, " Let's drink and be merry, be merry and wise." O! the brave bucks of old England, And O ! the old English brave bucks. These precepts sententious, which Nimrod laid down, Our lodges inculcate, in country and town, Which renders this order, in such high renown. O ! the brave bucks of old England, And O ! the old English brave bucks. Dick Spencer was son of a country squire. He was king 'mongst the Hertfordshire beaus ; His frame was as strong as the heart could desire, And his visage might rival the rose. VOCAL CABINET. 69 Like his old fash'on'd dad he was fond of the chase, And the first at the field in the morn ; With the hounds to the uplands to follow the trace ; And his bliss was the brass breathing horn. At a mark our bold Dick M'as inferior to none, When the covey before him would rise ; And the pheasant was sure of the charge of his gun, As aM'ay to the woodland he flies. At length Dick was trapped by a beau of the town. Who soon taught him his fribbling airs ; Pretending his sports were the ways of the clown, And fit only for bumpkins and bears. He led him to concerts, to powder his head, And taught him, to heighten his bliss, Never till dajlight to go to his bed, And to take into keeping a miss. To plays, balls, and operas together they run. To deck his new coat with a lace ; To forget all the charms of the dog and the gun. And relinquish the charms of the chase. Now Dickey's strong frame seem'd to dwindle apace. His spirit declin'd and his stomach grew queer ; Where nature's gay roses embellished his tace. The lilies of sickness began to appear. Dick crawrd to the doctor, and told him his case. Sage Gallipot gave this advice ; Go join your old dad in the charms of the chase. And your health shall return in a trice. 70 THE SPORTSMAN'S Dick lied from the fop and his idle pursuits,' Returned to old pleasures again; He hunts the fleet stag, and his system recruits, From the heart-cheering sports of the plain. By temperance he lives, and goes early to bed, And asham'd of his indolent life ; Determin'd with fops ne'er to trouble his head, And, instead of a miss, take a wife. His health soon returns : it appears on his brow, His fellows rejoice at the change ; And, prompted by wisdom, Dick utters this vow, " No more with a fopling to range." ('onvinc'd of this truth which admits no alloy, From such as seek titles and v.'ealth ; 'i'lie greatest of blessings a man can enjoy, Are friendship, peace, plenty, andliealth! THE LULLINGSTONE* HUNT. On the third of September, 1 think thereabout. From the Ijullingstone kennel the hounds were led out ; 'j'he harvest was over, the morning as bright As ever succeeded the darkness of night : Dick Carter, the huntsman, a rider as bold As e'er cross'd a saddle in heat or in cold. * The pack was the property of Sir John Dyke, of LuUingstone- VOCAL CABINET. 71 A brace of brass-horns by Sir John was supplied, And old Pierce, the earth-stopper, went on as a guide ; For he knew where the fox had been tempted to lurk. And the hoary old jockey was up to his work : At Ludsdown deep thicks was the fix'd meeting place. And these were the sportsmen who follow'd the chase. His Grace Duke of Dorset appear'd in the van. Attended by Twisden, and sage Horace Mann. The brave noble Amlierst, for Britain who fought. And Dering, the member who never was bought : Honeywood, Tilden, and young Squire Hoare, With Hull, from the Leith Hills, and half a score more. Stout reynard unkenneFd, we gave him some law. When he took through the stubbles, to Allington-ha"* Then dash'd through the Medway, just under the mill. And fled like a swallow the steeps of Bell-hill :+ Where in Kit's Coity-housej he determin'd to wait, (The old Kentish tomb that tells Catigern's fate). But finding the pack coming hard at liis brush. He left his abode witli the lightning's fierce rush ; Ah ! this was a sight worth a sportsman to see. For the champaign was clear from a bush or a tree : Kind Phcebus spread round a cerulean sky, Tlie sportsmen full speed, and the hounds in fiill cry. * Allington Castle. * Blue Bell Hill, between Rochester and Maidstone. X The tomb of the British Prince Catigern, brotlier to Vortimer. who fell in battle there, fighting against the Saxons, as did their general, Horsa, whose grave gives the name to s. neighbouring vil- lage called Horsted. 72 THE SPORTSMAN'S The rustics were out, and this cadence arose. Most sweet to the ear, " there he goes! there he goes!" The horns calFd for echo's responses between, And all nature concurr'd to enliven the scene : Een the larks over head could exult at the show, For the culprit was known for a general foe- At Horsted we turn'd him, up Steephill he climbs, To the heath * where stern j ustice sends knaves for their crimes ; Cross the level he scuds, like a bird in the wind. And seem'd little to care for the hunters behind : But the Lullingstone pack were full bent on his harm. And they turn'd him again, at George Willoughby's farm. As he flew up from Marden for more than a mile, Dick gave the view halloo in excellent style : The horns a tantivy, so sweet to the ear. That our coursers reviv'd, and fled swift as the deer -. When finding his eflForts were feeble and vain, He took tow'rd the Blue Bell, for Ludsdown again. Dash'd down to the Friars, where Romney's kind lord. Lives the friend of mankind, and's by thousands ador'd ; He again took the Medway, but faulter'd in pace, While the old bridge at Aylsford befriended the chase : At Hailing, sly reynard had ne.ir met his doom. Where Larabard the learned had chosen his tomb. At length lame and fainting, yet bold to repel, He sought to find shelter in Cobham's deep dell ; • Penenden Heath, near Rlaidstone, the place of execution for the county. VOCAL CABINET. 73 Just under the space once assigned for the dead. Where the grand mausoleum* uprears its proud head : But Sweetlips and Dido the pride of the pack, Were hard at his brush, and were first on his back. Now snarling he fell as he gave up his breath. His eyes like two meteors were flaming in deatli ; Dick Carter was active, and in with the hounds, Whose musical notes at the death had no bounds ; Tlie horns caught the sound, and so sAveet in the rear, That Handel himself had been charm\l to be near. The hunters came in and surrounded the spoil, A little the worse for the length of the toil ; For report if we credit, and most think we may. We had rode fifty miles thro' the whole of the day : His Grace took the brush, it was claini'd as his dole, Tlien set off with his friends to his palace at Knole.t Now the goddess of night denied us to roam, Fiird the horns of lier lamp, and conducted us home ; We parted in friendship, like brother with brother, And some they rode one way, and some went another : Confessing- such sport, with such marks of cpntent. Was never before in the county of Kent. * Erected by Lord Darnley, intended as a sepulchre for his father. t A magnificent mansion near Sevenoaks, built m the leign of King John : after passing through the hands of the crown to various noble families, it was, in the reign of James the first, settled on the descendants of the Earl of Dorset, &c. 74 THE SPORTSMAN'S The glowing east Aurora streaks, Her blushes tinge the ground. The day in mildest splendor breaks, And sweetness breathes around : Tlien shake off your slumbers, arise ! Blooming health ! see ! she tends on tlie morn t See, she waves you, up, up as she flies. Hark ! she calls by her herald the morn. Already in her airy cell. The nymph of mimic voice Awakes^ and with responsive swell. Applauds the hunter's choice. Then up and away to the chase. Blooming health ! see ! she tends on the morn ! See, she smiles with ineffable grace. Hark ! she speaks in the sound of the horn ! The cry is up, the ardent hounds. Pursue the destined prey ; He yields ; with shouts the field resounds ; Let friendship close the day : And still let's be ready to meet. Blooming health as she tends on the morn ; Fill! to love ! make life's pleasure complete, Sound ! to joy ! sound the echoing horn. The woodcocks and snipes t'other eve met together. To talk o'er the news of the day ; When the president, shaking indignant each feather. Cried, " List, friends, to what I've to say : — VOCAL CABINET. • 75 " By the'chiefs of tliis land we've been deem'd a ricli prize. We have flown far to pamper their wills; And year after year, when they wanted supplies, We were all on the wing with long bills., " Nay, so much were we lik'd at the feasts of the great, Tho' I never before of it boasted, That princes and lords of our merits would prate. And even our trails have they toasted. " But now they may cry up a crow or woodpecker, llieir owls and their pies, great and small, '■ For the Chancellor vile of the British Exchequer, Has fairly made game of us all." By this story depressed, they all slowly took wing, For to fly fast they seem'd quite unable ; And each took his oath — " By the clear water spring I'll be shot, if I e'er grace his table." Brother sportsmen, give ear, Rich September is near, Be ready to rise with the sun ; Leave your wives, leave your wealth. For contentment and health. And bring a stanch dog and a gun. To be furnish" d complete. With the useful and neat. Let the sportsman to Mortimer run : He may there be full sure. The best stock to procure. And no one can equal his gun. 76 THE SPORTSMAN'S O ! how charming to stop On the blue mountain's top, Or through the wheat stubble to run, When the game's on the wing, Gods ! who'd be a king ? Let me have my dog and my gun. Leave the man of the law From the artless to draw, Fee on fee, till the blockhead's undone ; With less guile on our parts, We despise his low arts, And harmless we carry the gun. Leave the dull nightly plod. To make mammon his god, Or full cry after stocks let him run • With what providence sent, The blithe sportsman's content ; Our treasure's the dog and the gun. Thus equipp'd M-ith M-hat's good. Quit tlie town for the wood ; Sweet peace shall approve when you've done ; For the bosom shall feel, IVIore than words can reveal. As the covios spring up to your gun. 7^len come ! come away. While the season is gay, 'Tis wisdom town follies to shun ; VOCAL CABINET. 11 And before the week's end. We may pleasure a friend, With the delicate spoils of the gun. Mankind are all hunters, the little, the great : The cit hunts a plum, and the squire an estate ; The courtier incessantly hunts for a place. But is sometimes thrown out in the slough of disgrace. Sir John hunts a title, with arrogant pride, And boasts his descent, but owns nothing beside ; While his tenants are pining, the victims of care. And sink down, while he revels, the game of despair. The doctor impatiently hunts for his fee. While the powder of post swells his long recipe ; But the wheels of his carriage we seldom explore. With the means of relief at the cottager's door : Too low for his practice are such silly things, Tho' he feasts on their labours — tlie treasure of kings. The parson's a hunter of higher degree, In pursuit a of mitre he's always qui live ; At the board of my lord he sits down to say grace. In hope like a rocket to rise in his place : For this, like a chum in hypocrisy's school. He smiles at his nonsense, and flatters the fool. The farmers are hunters, from evening till morn, To jockey the markets and keep up the corn ; While the swain, from whose toils their tables are spread. Is craving with want, and his children for bread : H 2 78 THE SPORTSMAN'S Tlie trader (but here let the poet beware,) For his taxes are great, and a burden to bear. The lawyers are hunters— a terrible race, Who sport with them least have the best of the chase ; Whoever's the loser they're certain to win, For their clients thrown out, they are sure to come in Then let us, good lads, as our ages increase. Leave lawyers to mend, and love mercy and peace. Thus you see, brother sportsmen, whatever his aim, Every man is a hunter in quest of his game'; Then let you and I, under reason's control. Go hunt down the bottle, or fathom the bowl : And this sentiment give for the rest of our lives, May we never be slighted by sweethearts or wives. What pastime's like hunting, it lengthens our lives, And gives us new charms for our sweethearts and wives. While dull plodding mortals who indolence court. Are the food of disease, and the doctors support : Did but such know our joys, they'd no longer delay, But join in the chase, and prevent their decay. 'Tis the font where the stream of felicity springs, Tlie high bliss of the swain, and a pastime for kings ; 'J'iie farmer delights in tlie rapture it yields, As lie tops the barr'd gate, and encircles his fields : Tlicu let us, while health spreads her bloom in the face. Arise with the day-star, and follow the chase. VOCAL CABINET, 79 Away then with maimnon, who loves it too much, Encounters a demon he trembles to touch ; AVhile the hunter, more liberal and happy in mind, Is met with respect as the friend of mankind : As he bounds o'er the liills and surveys the grand whole, Tiie beauties of nature enrapture his soul. Approv'd by himself, thro' the stages of life, He's exempt from the fears and the law-courts of strife ; Unwrung by ambition, to meanness unknown. He seeks but from others no more than his OM'n : Contented he lives, youthful pleasures runs o'er. And follows the hounds at the age of fourscore. Dear Phillis, farewell ! see the sunbeams of day. And the horn, the shrill lioru, calls the sportsman away : Nay, frown not, nor sadden those bright eyes with woe, Did I ever deceive thee ? O, no, my love, no. Tlie fields have their 'lurements, the water its charms, But what are such trifles, sweet girl, to thy arms? Those arras which, like heaven, impel me to know : Did I ever deceive thee ? O, no, my love, no. Not a bird skims the air, nor in water a fish. But 111 hasten to catch at my Phillis's wish : For a kiss, at her feet lay the hare, fox, and doe : Did I ever deceive thee ? O, no, my love, no. The fields and the water may tempt me to roam. But you, like a magnet, can draw me to home ! Then tell me, O, tell me, why start and sigh so ? Did I ever deceive thee? O, no, my love, no. so THE SPORTSMAN'S Believe me, no pleasure I find in the chase. Like that to be found in thy beautiful face ! Believe me, no bliss like thy bosom, I know ; Did I ever deceive thee? O, no, my love, no. Farewell, then, dear Phillis, a short time adieu ! Yet an age, a long age, till it brings me to you ! But thou, thou art with me, wherever I go ! Did I ever deceive thee ? O, no, my love, no. The west wind sighs, the night has fled. And morning lifts her rosy head ; Each songster swells its little throat. Flings on the gale the warbling note ; The sun with half-shorn glory shines. Like brilliants rough hewn from tlie mines ; The sky-lark matins forth her lay, As Tom the huntsman mounts his bay ; His ready hounds, with joyful cries. Salute the morn, and shake the skies. Tom's bay was of the choicest kind, A good broad chest, and fair behind. Her legs were handsome, strong and sleek, Her spirit neither wild nor meek. Her tout-ensemble very good, — In short, she was a bit of blood ; Had carried liim, with boundless speed. O'er hedge and ditch, and brook and mead : Nor ever had refus'd to take The tough ox-fence, or high-ribbed flake. VOCAL CABINET. 81 With heart elate, and spruce, and gay, Tom and his pack have dash'd away, To draw the woods of Belvoir's vale, Woods that are never known to fail : With ample voice he cheers his hounds ; O'er all the wood the echo sounds ; — Sly reynard flies with might and main. Skims like a swallow o'er the plain : List ! to the deep-ton' d notes that flow- Hark ! to the thund"ring tally-ho ! As the raging cataract roars, And down the rock its vengeance pours ; As the falcon rides above. And views her victims careless move ; As the storm that eddying flics. And with its lightning rends the skies,— So rush the pack down Belvoir's woods. Shaking the welkin— stem the floods, Whilst down the valley! gently floats The mellow horn's enchanting notes. And now the spirit of the chase Appears in each bold leader's face. With animating cry inspires His noble horse— nor damps his fires, But leads him skilful as he bounds O'er broad deep fence, in sight of hounds ; AVhilst thoughtless many a horseman rides, And damps the spirit as it glides, And as the chase keeps on its course, He tires himself, and fags his horse. 82 THE SPORTSMAN'S O'er hill and dale, with might and main, Sly reynard flies— still flies in vain ; Nor basely yields, but onward steers. With ardent strength and listening ears ; 'Till downright spent, he moves along Some few short fields before the throng. Then clears, and o'er the trembling mead , He bursts again with desperate speed : 'Tis useless all — Tom's thund'ring cries Still on his ear unerring flies. Now full in view the chase appears. He backs his dogs with hearty cheers ; They rush, they fly — alas! he's gone! That shout proclaim' d the work was done. What animating bursts invade The ear, and warble in the glade ! Behold the brush ! the hunter's share. The glorious trophy, waves in air ; And homeward as each sportsman wends. He boasts his feats, and gulls his friends. Oil ! who would lead that sickly life. So full of sorrow, care, and strife, Where nought is seen but heavy books — The head-ache — sickness — sallow looks — Which for the sake of hoarding -wealth. So oft we sacrifice our health ; Instead of rising every morn, To greet the huntsman's hounds and horn. And through the merry live-long day, Join the blithe halloo ! hark away ! VOCAL CABINET. 83 Link'd in pleasure's sweet communion, Put around the sparkling wine, Glory's laurel, charming union, With love's myrtle shall entwine : Spread around the archer's fame. Catch the enthusiastic spark ; Give the toast its due, a brimmer. Let no ray of day-light glimmer, — The king, and may each Briton aim To hit fair duty's loyal mark. Our sport's a type of life's condition : True archers are the supple bow That takes truth's even round position. But bends to nothing mean and low ; Then bend the bow— that merit claim, Inipell'd by honour's fervid spark, Again the toast — come, fill, a brimmer, Let no ray of day-light glimmer, — May knaves, that would at virtue aim, Disgrac'd, hit shame's reproachful mark. The bowstring is that due subjection, Which our various passions reins. And guides the bent of our aifection. Till worth the prize of virtue gains. Draw the string — the bowman's fame Acquire, through emulation's spark ; Give the toast its due, a brimmer. Let no ray of day-light glimmer, — May mirth at honour's target aim, And hit fair pleasure's golden mark.' 84 THE SPORTSMAN'S Our various fortunes are the arrow, Which let careful prudence hold, In even mean, nor wide nor narrow. And hit the target in the gold : Let fly, deserve tlie bowman's fame, Impeird by perseverance' spark, Round with the toast, fill up a brimmer, Let no ray of day-light glimmer,— May industry at honour aim. And hit fair fortune's golden mark. Then careful brace the bow, and bend it. Prudent draw the string, and wise ; The arrow pois'd, like lightning send it. Hit honour's mark, and gain life's prize. Spread around the archer's fame, Catch the enthusiastic spark. Give the toast its due, a brimmer. Let no ray of day-light glimmer, — The fair, and may each bowman aim To hit, in love, fair honour's mark. To the waters of Lea, so much in esteem. Where the willows in clusters appear. And the old wooden bridge that bends over the stream, Invites to the miller's good cheer. Where, of Alfred the Great, the wise, and the good, 'I'his memento conspicuous remains, 'J'he place where he gave a new turn to the flood, And left dry the piratical Danes. VOCAL CABINET. 85 To this honor'd spot, while the season was gay, Piscator retir'd with his friend. To angle in quiet the long summer's day, And the mind with the sage to unbend. One servant attended, to lessen their toil, Their tackle with care to secure. In safety, to place the amount of their spoil. And make pleasant the rustical tour. With such skill and such quiet they trace by the stream. That had sage Walton and Cotton been there, They had sworn, by the sweets of the char and the bream, That their equal was not to compare. Now the sun was declining to evening apace. And time told the hour to give o'er. And the friends were inclin'd to retire from the place. That had furnish'd their skill with a store. Behold, sirs,* said Peter, bent down on his knee, As he held up a delicate trout, A fish with more beauty there is not to see. If we search all the rivers about! They pack up their treasures and quickly retir'd. Where peace and kind plenty were found, Where a modest repast to refresh, they requir'd. While mirth and true friendship abound. * This scene has been charmingly painted by the elder Reinagle, from which there is an engraving by Wm. Nicholls, a pupil 'of the celebrated Anthony Cardon. The print is well executed, and worthy the portfolio of the collector. 86 THE SPORTSMAN'S Frequent at early blush of morn, At infant peep of day. When glitt'ring dew-drops deck the corn, I wind my pathless way ; To where yon distant spire, scarce seen, Embosom' d in the vale, That peeps the nodding elms between, Soft sigliing 'midst the gale. There oft at dewy dawn of day, I seek the silent stream. Where willows mark the \vat'ry way, Where sleeping Naiads dream. "Tis there, with angling ease reclin'd, AVith health and pleasing friend, Calm contemplation lulls the mind. And all our cares unbend. While, on the whisp'ring western breeze. Morn's balmy breath is borne. That scarce distnrbs the fresh clad trees. Or waves the rising corn. Up, up, sportsmen, up, ere the sheep leave the fold. Up, up, ere young Phcebus drinks night's healing dew. Up, up, ere the morn shall begin to wear old. And good housewives are busy to bake and to brew ; For we never were born, gallant brothers, remember. To sleep, like dull sluggards, the First of September. VOCAL CABINET. 87 Don your russet brown vest, place your belt by your side, Call Ponto and Juno from kennels away. And stalk o'er the stubbles, in holiday pride. Health and freedom attending your hearty array : Forget ease and slumber; pride, passion, surrender. For your dog and your gun, on the First of September. Climb the hills, seek the valley, try furze-break and down. Let your stanch pointers range o'er the newly reapd field. Ye shall win more delight, and achieve more renown. Than whole years in the bowers of false fashion can yield ; For our laws will admit of no fickle pretender. To mark, and bring down, on the First of September. Then success crown'd at last— for the.best day must end- Return to your homes with true conquerors' pride. And again find a joy in a sociable friend. Or in casting your spoils 'fore your sweetheart or bride ; These, these are our ecstasies, sportsmen, remember, Then up, fowlers, up, 'tis the First of September ! How lovely the morning, the landscape how bright. The mind with new raptures to fill : The dew-drops like diamonds appear to the siglit. And how sweet is the murmuring rill. CHORUS. Then rouse, brother sportsman, enjoy the sweet daj^ Health comes in the breeze, to the chase let "s away. 88 THE SPORTSMAN'S The steeds are all panting, the silver-tongu'd hounds Are yelping all over the lawn ; And wide thro' the woodlands blithe echo resounds. Which doubly makes cheerful the dawn. Then rouse, brother sportsman, &c. When the hart, or the hare, we have hunted with glee. Or reynard, so artful and sly ; O'er the bowl in the evening, how happy are we. And the joy giving song lift on high. Then rouse, brother sportsman, &c. You boast of wines from gaudy France, From rich Madeira" s isle; We, sportsmen, hear what you advance. And treat it with a smile. We lads, who brush the woodland thorn. And follow up the hind. Know nothing cheers at night or morn. Like home-brew'd barley wine. It gives us strength all day to roam. It makes our spirits gay, And more, at night, when we come home. It drives fatigue away. Your city fops may laugh at this, And what I sing malign, But nought from such, I'll take amiss. With home-brew'd barley wine. VOCAL CABINET. 89 It spreads the cheek with rosy red. Re-nerves the feeble frame, While those by Gallic vintage fed, Go gouty, sick, and lame. It lengthens out our thread of life. Improves the bard's design, And often stills the tongue of strife — This home-brew'd barley wine. It makes good blood for pretty maids ; From this, 'tis plain to trace, Young hunters rise, to brush the glades, A bold and gen'rous race. The vixen when she's most in rage, And reason can't confine, \ A dose of this shall soon assuage — Good home-brevv'd barley wine. It makes the prude her pride forego, And often change her mind ; And now the friendly kiss bestow, And treat her sportsman kind. Leave wines of France to higher folk. Who own a golden mine, But let us hunters sing and smoke, , O'er home-brew'd barley wine. We'll not forget the farmer's health, Who holds the needful plough. Without his aid what's all our wealth ? He piles the barley mow. 1 2 90 THE SPORTSMAN'S Then let us sing, the malt and hop, When skilful hands combine, And those who tun the precious drop Of home-brew'd barley wine. Bright blazed the fire of crackling wood, And threw around a cheerful g^leam ; Tn front a vast .oak table stood — A bacon-rack hung from the beam :. Pipes, mugs, the chimney-piece well grae'd, — In rows the fishing-rods hung o'er ; On each side otter skins were placed. — Rap ! rap ! cries dame - " Who's at the door ?" CAorM*.— Some jolly anglers, loud they bawl, T' enjoy the pastime of Trout-Hall, Bright as her fire glow'd dame's plump face, As her old friends she welcom'd kind ; " Here ! Joan and Dolly, clear the place, " And tap the humming ale, d'ye mind ? " First fetch my bottle of right Nantz, " The ev'ning air is keen and raw ; " My friends of cold shall run no chance — " You'll pledge me, gentlemen, I know." Chorus.— Come, jolly ang^lers, one and all, You're kindly welcome to Trout-Hall. Their stomachs fortified, around The sparkling fire the anglers spread ; Fill pipes ; crack jokes ; the walls resound VV'ith laughter that might rouse the dead : VOCAL CABINET. 91 The supper on the table smokes ! Round the oak board they take their seats ; Now din of knives, forks, plates !— no jokes- Right earnest aldermanic feats. Chorus. — Much good niay't do each honest soul — Each true bred brother of Trout-Hall. The supper o'er, well fiU'd each guest, Dame with her private flask appears ; Hopes they are pleas'd — " She's done her best" — They greet th' old worthy with three cheers : Again fill tankard, pipe, and boM'l, — Joke, tale, and toast, and song go round ; Begone dull Care ! shouts ev'ry soul, To thee this is forbidden ground : Chorus. — Begone ! Thou never canst enthral. The jolly anglers at Trout-Hall. When the season's fine for sporting, AVhat to hunting can compare ? Naught in life, except 'tis courting. When we press the yielding fair. See, the hounds begin to feather; There's a touch, by all that's good ! Hark ! they're getting fast together ; Now they thunder down the wood. O, what a crash ! Forward they dash : There the fox goes ; The huntsman blows ; Every hound now flings and throws. 92 THE SPORTSMAN'S To the scent the pack are settled : Now, who leads the daring throng? Fox-hunters, alike high-mettled. Shove their smoking steeds along. Then, as if the d 1 kicked us. Neck or nothing we all go, Look, that fellow there has nick'd us ; You were wrong, I told you so. Leap o'er the brook ; Don't stay to look. Ride at the gate ; You'll be too late ; None to open it can wait. Happy he, who now stays by them. Whilst the nags knock up so fast ; Such a day as this will try them ; None but good ones long can last. What a head the pack still carry ; O, it is a glorious run! Jack is down, and there goes Harry ; Bob is blown, and Dick is done. Ride for your life ; Get out your knife. There the hounds fly ; Soon he must die ; Who shall brush him, you or I ? But, if sport like this inspires us With such ardour fur the chase ; Tliink how female beauty fires us. When displaying sylph-like grace. VOCAL CABINET. 93 With equestrian skill appearing, Charming Down enchants the field ; Ev'ry fence, with courage clearing. Sportsmen to her spirit yield. Struck with the sight, • Lost in delight ; She, like the wind, Leaves them behind ; And who, then, his heart can find ? * In January, 1818, Mr. Conyers' hounds met at Row Wood, where they found a fox, which they ran for thirty-five minutes without a check, and killed him between Canfield Mount and Dunmow Highwood. They afterwards found another on Takeley Forest, which they ran through the forest to Hallingbury ; back again over the open part of tiie forest, within two fields of Prior's Wood, by the corner of Canfield Hart, to High RootUing street, then up to Row Wood, over the large fields, through Man Wood to Matching Green, where he was headed; he then went off in the direction of Brick Hills and Wood End, by the end of Fyfield ; and was run into in a large field close by Garnish Hall, after one of the most brilliant runs ever witnessed in the county of Essex. A few days after, Mrs. Down, accompanied by Mr. Down and a very respectable field, assembled at the Thrift, near Chelmsford, which was drawn without success. The hounds were then led on to the covers in the neighbourhood of Little Baddow, where a brace of foxes were found, one of which led them an excellent chase of nearly an hour and a half, when the hounds were obliged to be called off, in consequence of a severe storm of rain and hail coming on. Mrs. Down topped every thing she came at, and rode well up the whole day, scarcely meeting with a check. An old fox-hunter, struck with the novelty, and fired with renovated youth whilst in company with the lady, composed the above song. 94 THE SPORTSMAN'S Thro' woodlands and forests, how sweet sounds the horn, While cheerful the hunters pursue ; Each meadow, enrich" d with the dew-drops of morn, The track of the hare gives to view. The well scented hounds yelp over the grounds. Tantivy, tantivy, the welkin resounds. The high mettled steed flies o'er mountains and vales. Nor hedges nor ditches impede ; Hark forward ! they cry, as she leaps the park pales, And boldly again the}' proceed. The well scented hounds yelp over the grounds. Tantivy, tantivy, the welkin resounds. Augustus himself loves the joys of the chase, Tis royal ! 'tis noble ! divine ! Gives vigour to life, and sweet blushes the face, Then who would such pleasures decline. The well scented hounds yelp over the grounds. Tantivy, tantivy, the welkin resounds. I SING the famd Hunt, whose men and whose hounds. Ne'er felt themselves shackled by old-fashion'd bounds ; Whose system's their own, and whose merits, I trust, Are, just as they ought to be, dashing and first- Sing Ballynamona— ora, And this famous stag-hunting for me. Their lord, a good sportsman, of fox-hunting complexion. Who is coupled to this with strong links of affection ; VOCAI. CABINET. 95 Of reasons for liking t\veh-e hundred could bring, Or else all the pack in his couples might swing. Sing Balljnamona— ora, &c. Now G— s— n and Sh— pe in the string we see first, Whilst J— h— n stands by, or trots on for a burst ; Who hunts them by proxy, and pockets the pelf, And all the week after is laid on the shelf. Sing Ballynamona— ora, &c. Suppose the stag out, and away they all go, Tlie hounds well together, some fast and some slow ; Like a train of wild geese, make a long flowing line. Forming guide-posts for sportsmen far distant behind Sing Ballynamona — ora, &c. Now for the first stop— who heads them ? let's see ; Is it O — s— n, or V — e, or who will it be ? Such hunting as this I ne'er saw till now. And the hounds far a-head in the bottom below. Sing Ballynamona — ora, &c. Crash over that fence ; take care, bless your eyes ! Upon Weathercock's Vane, see, yonder come V— e ; A devil to ride, but who never can tell. Any more of the hunt than a man in a well. Sing Ballynamona — ora, &c. And G— s— n close at him, laid snug in his side- Such fellows on horseback I never saw ride ; They already are push'd to the pitch of their might. And the rest far behind they leave clear out of sight. Sing Ballynamona — ora, &c. 96 THE SPORTSMAN'S Next S— w dashes forward, so lively and frisky. Who had kill'd the dull spleen in a cup of good whisky ; A bold son of Erin, both active and light. And wlio dashes at all, whether wrong or right. Sing Ballynamona — ora, &c. Next L— w— s comes on, a most thick-headed b— ch. Whose hprse lately laid him genteel in a ditch ; Whose centre of balance can never be true. But whose system of riding will ever be new. Sing Ballynamona — ora, &c. O ! who is he yonder, thus rubbing his pate. And stamping and swearing, bewailing his fate ; Whose horse we see rating it over the plain. Feeling hopes heil ne'er see his long master again ? Sing Ballynamona — ora, &c. ! good master F — nw— k, I wish you much fun, 1 see you are likely to have a long run ; The forest is wide, and you're lost in a fog. And he'll break his d — n'd neck in a rut or a bog. Sing Ballynamona — ora, &c. And R— sb — m Jem, a skirting-like elf. Whose nerves he makes do for his horse and himself; Who, tell him to-morrow no further he'd go. Will swear all was ^vell, but his horse lost a shoe. Sing- Ballynamony — ora, &c. Now comes steady F— m— n, who understands well, Every part of the sport, or to buy or to sell ; VOCAL CABINET. 97 Who has feelinfi^ enough just to stick to one plan, To buy when he will, and to sell when he can. Sing Ballynamona — ora, &c. O ! good doctor D - e ! what, you join'd at the check ! Do you hunt for practice — an arm or a neck ? You ride very well, and you have but one fate. That, start when you will, you are always too late. Sing Ballynamona,— ora, &c. Next P — rk — r and D — e, like Pollux and Castor, Too steady to riot, too wise to go faster ; They ride the long race, and their merit 's to wait, Being^ sure to be in either early or late. Sing Ballynamona — ora, &c. Now T — bb — tt come on, with your fine staring grey. Who, as a young sportsman, improves ev'ry day ; Whose horse cannot err, if you let him alone, And may beat all the hunt on a plan of his own. Sing Ballynamona— ora, &c. Now B — 1 — ys sails forward, of sporting-like fame. For steady, fair riding, you boast a good name ; But I've heard in this hunt you no merit could find ; And they own you might judge, but you're always behind. Sing Ballynamona— ora, &c. Next comes, stride-away T — ke, a clean looking soul. With ardour for sporting he cannot controul ; Who dashes away the instant they've found, And rides the whole chase without seeing a hound. Sing Ballynamona— ora, &c. 98 THE SPORTSMAN'S And next in the string, we spy T— my, the brewer. In the old woman's school I dont know a truer At a common, a lane, or a road, a neat trap. Or trotting round miles for a gate or a gap. Sing Ballynaraona— era, &c. And, far in the rear, see, see Jack the painter. His horse in a funk, growing fainter and fainter ; With V — 11 — s, so famous, who rides for a heat, Some furlongs behind, but is now fairly beat. Sing Ballynamona — ora, &c. And the fam'd yeomen prickers, they have but one plan. To do but as little as eA'er they can ; So lib'ral their friends, 'tis but justice to tell. For what they get by it, they do very well. Sing Ballynamona— ora, &c. The stag being taken, we see for a while, Drop in men and hounds, one by one, in good style ; And still, as far back as the eye may be bound. We see a keen sportsman, or lost tired hound. Sing Ballynamona — ora, &c. Now we've thirty g-ood miles to go home for a treat. And Sol, too, has driven his steeds to a beat : In a cup of the best, then, we'll toast it with glee,— Long life to their lord, but fox-hunting for me. Sing Ballynamony— ora, &c. VOCAL CABINET. 99 On the downs near new Saruni, to sportsmen well known, Wliere a race of young coursers are constantly shewn ; Where the stables for training, for ages have been. And the gallant Eclipse first erected his mien ; Where Frampton, and others of equal renown. Once rear'd the bold stallion to race for the crown : To these verdant downs, with a friendly intent, The Arabian colt was most tenderly sent. The gay grooms were all met, and the gentry beside, W^hen the Arab was shewn, and his strength to be tried : He's tooyoung yet, cried Joyce ; he's too slender, said Clift ; He's a picture, sang Arnull, in time he'll make shift ; Bold Goodisson swore, by the charms of the chase. And Robinson too, he'd be first in the race : We'll try him, said Buckle, and leap'd on his back. And without whip or spur he was off in a crack. He flew like the swallow, that flits on the wing. And all swore he was worthy the stud of a king ; Young Haynes, 'mongst the concourse, was notic'dto cry. The Arab I'll purchase, if money can buy ; If brought to the hammer, or privately sold, I'll fill a quart measure with sovereigns of gold : Peers, riders, and squires, speak high of the horse, And the fleet flying Arab is led to the course. At Newmarket's fam'd course his prowess begins ; He starts for the plate, and he easily wins ; For though young in the sport, he was equall'd by none For beauty, for blood, and for sinew and bone. 100 THE SPORTSMAN'S Tlie sight was most charming, the ladies were gay, And gave zest to the pleasures and sports of the day ; The breezes delighted came rushing amain. And the riders" silk jackets all whistl'd again. At Ascot, at Egham, and fam'd Runny IMead, The Arab for seasons still compassed the lead ; But ah ! (shall 1 name it) the sweepstakes he won. But fell at the post, as if shot from a gun ; A cruel disaster, all pitied his case. But his sinews were strain'd, and no more for the race ; He was led up to Tattersall's, there to be sold. For a price, to the nackers, too mean. to be told. Thus the young fiery stallion, so swift in his flight. Who had given to peers and to princes delight, Was led from the race course, this task to fulfil,— To drudge in a dung-cart, or turn in a mill ; But Haynes was at hand, he had heard of his fate, The hammer was up, as he enter" d the gate: In time for a bidding, and best on the spot, The Arabian courser now fell to Ins lot. In a rich pleasant pasture he's still to be seen, His strength much recover"d, as graceful his mien. While his owner declares he no longer shall run, Fiut will keep him at ease, for the deeds he has done ; Thus humanity sliewn, by a sportsman so kind. Deals a lesson of worth to the rest of mankind : For let int'rest and cruelty say wliat they can, He who tortures his beast is no longer a man ! VOCAL CABINET. 101 The wood-path is carpeted over with leaves. The glories of autumn decay ; The goddess of plenty has bound up her sheaves. And carried the harvest away. With dissonant guns, hills and valleys resound. The swains through the coppices rove ; The partridges bleed on the dry stubble ground ; The pheasants lie dead in the grove. To others such pastime, such sport I resign. And fly to my heart's little queen ; Her breast with a sympathy, tender as mine. Will mourn so pathetic a scene. A keener enjoyment, my fair, we'll pursue. From a sight so destructive remove ; Let sportsmen rejoice, with the game in full view, Our pastimes the pastime of love. Together the true lover's knot let us tie. While youth revels high in each vein ; When youth and its pleasing concomitants fly. The true lover's knot will remain. Though age may creep on, and indenture the brow. Still then shall our constancy last ; And, if we can't relish the feast we act now. We'll think on the pleasure that's past. Let astronomers preach up their science pedantic. Of stars, and of moons, and of other strange things. Or philosophers boast of their M-isdom gigantic. To prove water, clouds— or the clouds to be springs. K 2 102 THE SPORTSMAN'S I've a principle, apter and clearer, in view, And in Euclid I'm sure there's no figure more true, — Than springs health, rosy health, from the chase. O'er Copernicus, Newton his time had ne'er ponder'd, To prove that the earth round the sun runs a race. Or Locke, on the Mind, had his arguments squandered, If either had tasted the joys of the chase. For my principle, &c. Politicians, so grave on the nation's estate. From whom taxes on wine and our hunters we trace, Ne'er had ruin'd their health by debating so late. Could they join in the pleasure that springs from the chase. For my principle, &c. I'm a happy old fellow with very few wants. And seldom am troubled with cares. In quiet I live, in my blest rural haunts, And the bloom on my face my life's habit declares. The system of politics ruffles me not, Nor shrink I from pride, or from envy's foul stings, But blest with my friend, my pipe, and my pot, I look down with a smile on the bluster of kings. The rich wines of Burgundy, Marne, and Champagne, The fierce burning spirits brouglit home from the isles ; Nor the vintage, so powerful, produc'd in old Spain, Which often the heads of our princes beguiles : VOCAL CABINET. 103 Not these can disturb, or my morals betray ; But give me of British October enough, These drams of destruction keep out of tlie way. For quacks to make up with tlieir poisonous stuff. Let princes combine to plague nations around. And boast to the M'orld their new holy league, in high strains ; While the helpless incline to look sad at the sound. And sue to Great Britain to sliake off their chains. Tho' I pity their case, I can serve them no more ; I5ut wish from my heart I'd the pow'rs, This rude play of kings should quickly be oer. And liberty dance in her holiday bow'rs. Let riot's low sons claim the loose midnight song, And waste by the tapers a mountain of wealth : Experience has taught me this conduct is wrong, And subversive of quiet and health. Let their minds be at rest, and have moderate wants. And my lessons of prudence go teach to a friend : Then care not a fig for the fooFs silly taunts. For prudence, good fellows, shall last to the end. With rae you may think on the charms of the chase, While manhood gives strength to the frame. And the roses that blusli in sweet Philida's face. May call up uncensur'd the laudable flame. 104 THE SPORTSMAN'S And now I have little to trouble my mind, Save, I think on the fate of a brother gone by, Who fell in the battle, and left me behind To yield him, when thoughtful, the tear or the sigh. Thus fares the old sportsman at eig^hty and two. Who leaves this advice at the end of his will : If you wish to live long, hence my maxims pursue. And laugh at the quack, and his medical skill. From town I walk'd to take the air. Shun smoke and noise of coaches ; I saw a lovely damsel fair, Angling for dace and roaches. Close by a brook, with line and hook. Which curiously was baited, Attentively the maid did look. While for a bite she waited. Struck with her charms, I nearer drew, To view this lovely creature ; The line into the brook she threw. But oh ! with such good nature. When me this charming girl espied, She seein'd intimidated ; Don't be afraid, sweet maid, I cried, Cupid your hook has baited. VOCAL CABINET. 105 My hand and heart, sweet nynaph, are thine, > If yoii will but accept them ; And all I have to thee resign. But die if you reject them. This, and much more, to her I said ; She replied, slie must away ; Her friends would think too long" she staid. Then sweetly smil'd, and hid good day. I soon gain'd her's and friends' consent. That Delia should be my bride ; In a few months to church we went. And the happy knot was tied. Now pass"my days in sweet content, Blest with her fiind embraces ; And Delia owns she does not repent Angling, for roach and daces. Come, tune the solemn strain To the twang, twang of the bowstring. While slowly o'er the plain, We march our yeomanry : To the foot of yon green-wood tree, Where round the death-bed chaunting. We twang, twang the bowstring ; Our bowman's loss lamenting : For a good fellow sure was he ; A good fellow sure was he ; The pride of bowmanry. 106 THE SPORTSMAN'S Then dolefully we all sing, To the twang, twang of the bowstring, While echoes catch the full swing : There needs no passing bell. To toll our bowman's knell For him our dirges loud swell, To the twang, twang of the bowstring : And thus we close our farewell — To the winding of the horn. Matt Horsley is gone ! a true sportsman from birth, After all his long chases, he's taken to earth ; Full of days, full of whim, and good humour he died, The farmer's delight, and the fox hunter's pride ! And tho' the small comforts of life's private hour, Were often encroach' d on by rank and by power, And tho' his plain means could but poorly afford To cope with the squire, or contend with a lord, — Yet Matt the sharp arrows of malice still broke. In his quaint Yorkshire way, by a good humour'd joke. Till fourscore and ten, he continued life's course : And for seventy long years he made part of his horse, From the days of old Draper, who rose in the dark. Matt hunted thro' life to the days of Sir Mark.* * Sir M.Masteiman Sykes, whose hounds were almost as popular as their owner, and for whom every man, who could, preserved a fox. Sir Mark Sykes of Sledmere House, and of Settrington Yorkshire, died at \Veymouth, on his way to London, February, VOCAL CABINET. 1C7 With Hunmanby's squire + he was first in the throng. And with hard Harry FoordJ never thought a day long ; If the fox would but run, every bog it way dry, No leap was too large— no wold hill too hig-h : Himself still in wind, though his steed might want breath, He was then, as he"s now, ever " in at the death." A tough hearty sapling from Liberty's tree, If ever plain Yorkshireman lived— it was he. But at last honest Matt has bid sporting adieu ; Many good things he uttered ; one good thing is true, " That aw"d by no frowns, above meanness or pelf- No bad thing could ever be said of himself." As honest Matt Horsley is gone to repose. And he and the foxes no longer are foes ! the 16th, 1S23, aged 52. He served the office of high sheriff of the county in 1795 ; succeeded to the title and estates on the death of his father, in September, 1801. In 1S07, he was elected representative in parliament for the city of York, after a most se- vere contest: he was again elected in 1S12, without opposition ; and rettirned a third time, after a contest, in 1813. He retired from public life in 1820, on account of ill health, to the great re- gret of his constituents. In private life his character shone with the greatest lustre : blessed with a princely fortune, he had the means as well as the inclination to benefit his fellow creatures ; to him the distressed never appealed in vain ; his purse was al- ways open to the calls of humanity. t Humphrey Osbaldeston, Esq. who in his dav, and in the days of Isaac Granger, who was his huntsman, had one of the hest packs of fox-hounds in England. X Harry Foord, a former vicar of Fox-holes, on the Wolds, esteemed one of the best gentlemen riders in England, and who preserved that true character in riding, never to avoid what was necessary, or to do that which was not. He, therefore, rode, through ten seasons, two as good horses as ever went into a field, though riding fourteen stone. lOS THE SPORTSMAN'S Laj- one brush on his grave!— it will do his heart good : For so A'ermin his nature — so tnie was his blood, That but stand o'er his sod — tally-ho! be jour strain, Matt Horsley will wake and will halloo again. Since winter's keen blast must to zephjT give place. We resign, for a season, the joys of the chase ; The cry of the hounds and of hunters must cease, And puss thro' the woodlands may ramble in peace ; Tu peace let her ramble, regardless and free. Till the horn's cheerfiil note shall awake us with glee : Till October returns, let her fi-olic and play. And then we'll pursue her with " hark, hark away." ^Vith hark, hark away. With hark, hark away, And then we'll pursue her, with hark, hark away ! When ting'd were the hills, with the crimson of morn, We jocundly rose to the sound of the horn : Triumphant its melody swell'd o'er the plain. While the heath cover'd mountains re-echoed the strain Hark, hark ! was the mandate, we flew like the wind, And care's haggard visage was distanc'd behind : T\Tiat joys can be equal to those we display. When we follow the harriers, with hark, hark away ! With hark, hark awaj- ! &c. Like the soldier return'd from a far hostile shore. Recounting his toils and his victories o'er ; Of the battle's loud din, where is courage so true, Obtain'd the green laurel entwining his brow. VOCAL CABINET. 109 Of chases now past let our narrative be, Till winter's pale hand shall dismantle the tree ; Then, then to the forest exultinglj- stray. And cheer the fleet harriers, with hark, hark away ! With hark, hark away ! &c. Then fill up your glasses — yet fill as you chuse— Here's a health, brother sportsmen, which none can refuse ; A health that with pleasure our club shall inspire ; While huntinef delights, or while hounds we admire : — See, see how I fill it — 'tis Colepitts,* I toast : Of our hunt may he long be the pride and the boast, And oft may we meet him with joys like to-day ; And long may he lead us, with hark, hark away ! With hark, hark away. With hark, hark away, And long may he lead us, with hark, hark, hark away ! Early one morning as I was a walking. Then did I hear of a famous fine hunting ; "Twas between some gentlemen and the Duke of Buck- ingham, So early as I was a walking. CHORUS. There was Dido and Spandigo, Gentrj^ was there O, Old Trowler who never looks behind him ; There was Countess and Rowler, Bonnylass and Jowler, These are the hounds that will find him. * G. Colepitts, Esq. of Killingworth, the worthy ma«ter of the forest hunt. He died October 30th, 1793, universally regretted. no THE SPORTSMAN'S Our fox being young, and the sport just begun, He straightway took out of the cover; Tt was up the highest hill, and down the lowest dale. Expecting his life for his labour. There was, &c. Mr. Watkins he rode bay, INIr. Taffe he rode grey, Mr. Draper kept up with his srace, sir ; Mr. Watson had no share, for he rode his dappled inare» And was forc'd to give over the chase, sir. There was, &c. Jemmy trots o'er the plain, as he trips it o'er again : Bold Watkins's horse never fails him ; Then for ever and a day, to his hounds he will say. Hark away, hark away, all together. TTiere was, &c. Our fox being younsf, and the sport almost done. He straightway jump'd into the river ; Old Dido he jump'd in, and after him did swim, Saying, now we will triumph for ever. There was, &c. It chanc'd that an angler, who liv'd in Cheapside, With new tackle and nice lively bait. On a fishing excursion to Putney bridse hied. And there in a punt, at the due time of tide. Expectant and watchful, he sate. VOCAL CABINET, HI That patience is virtue, the proverb declares, And our sportsman gave practical proof: For tho' he displayed all his craftiest snares, Tho' his hooks were conceald, and his lines single hairs. The curs"d fish still kept swimming aloof. At length he grew hungry, and weary, and wet. For the punt was both leaky and cranky ; And tho' he with caution each tempting bait set, Not a minnow, a roach, or an eel, could he get. For they all seem'd to say, " No, 1 thank 'ee !" A wag, on the bridge, said, " No longer contend. For you've dev'lish bad luck below, brother ; And the fault's in your rod — (.for 1 speak as a friend), Tho' 'tis certainly true, there's a worm at one end. Yet 2k fool scares i\\& fish, at the other /" Sly reynard is started, the hounds scent his brush ; The intrepid fox is in view ; Now this, and now that way, the sportsmen all rush. And quick, quick as lightning pursue. Yo, yoix ! yo, yoix ! on all sides resounds, Fleet reynard still leaves them behind ; O'er uplands and valleys, undaunted he bounds, Yoix! yoix! more swift than the wind. Hark forward ! hark forward ! hark forward's the cry, Hark forward ! hark forward ! poor reynard must die ! 112 THE SPORTSMAN'S He falters, he trembles, yet leads the loud pack ; Again he shows courage, and flies ; Alas ! 'tis in vain, tliey are close at his back ; They catch him, they catch him, he dies ! Yo, yoix ! yo, yoix ! they seize on their prey. Poor reynard, his blood stains the field. Old Juno, young Scentwell, bold Jowler, and Tray, Yoix ! yoix ! have compelled him to yield. Hark forward ! hark forward ! the hunters all cry. Hark forward ! hark forward ! poor reynard must die ! Survey the gay heath, what bright beauties are here. And hark to the musical horn : Tlie archers are coming, behold, they appear As brilliant as Phcebus at morn : Near Surry advances the bows of St. George ; Old Hornsey her AVoodmen has sent. And next Chevy-chase boys, see Aylesford's kind lord. Leads up the bold Bowmen of Kent. The Toxopholites came with the Robin Hood's bows ; Next Suffolk, there's Arden so neat. With gay Royal Artillery Archers they close, And make the procession complete. Who, captain of targets and numbers shall be. Full quickly their bows shall be bent, Tliere's Jarvis for Hornsey, none better to see. And Leith for the Bowmen of Kent. VOCAL CABINET. 113 Hark ! the signal is given, to targets they run, E"en swift as the arrow that flies: Their bows are all bent and the pastime begun, A bugle of gold is the prize. That Woodman* of Arden, how graceful he draws, For the goal his arrow was meant, Hark ! hark ! from above, w hat a burst of applause, 'Tis hit by a Bowman of Kent. How eager around for the honours they strain ! Ah! pr'ythee, dull poet, forbear. The brightest of honours they strive to obtain, Tlie smiles of applause from the fair. See Anderson 'r triumph like Robin of old. His arrows with judgment are sent ; And Jarvis, like Midas, + turns all into gold, While Leith fills the targets for Kent. ■ o"^ The measures of harmony^ sweeten tlie tori, While Phoebus, tlie archer above. At the twang of the bow, looks down with a smile, And that cunning Toxopholite Love. Now Sol quits the gay scene for his Thetis's bed, AVhen Leith || his unerring bow bent ; The shaft seem'd, exulting, to cry, as it fled, I win for the Bowmen of Kent. • Earl Morton led the Woodmen of Arden, and shot with great skill. t Anderson, Robin Hood's bowman, declared captain of numbers- X Alluding to his frequently piercing the golden goal. § The band of music. II Dr. Leith of Greenwich, captain of the target. I. 2 114 THE SPORTSMAN'S The day's sport is over, the targets are told, When Anderson mounts o'er the rest : While Jarvis of Hornsey, for merit enroll'd, And Green, * win the gems t for the breast. The signal is given, to dinner each flies. Where Willis t gives hunger content ; Where the good Duke of Leeds § presented the prize To Leith, the bold Bowman of Kent. Come, listen all, you sportsmen gay, who love to run a hare, sirs, A story of a course I'll tell, whose truth I do declare, sirs; 'Tis of a famous stout game hare, which lay near Lonsbro" town, sirs. Who beating every greyhound there, had challeng'd great renown, sirs. At length the squire of Methill's Hall, heard of this hare, by hap, sirs. And swore to all his company, he'd single run Blue Cap, sirs ; At which they laughed, and jeering said, " He never would come nigh her." " My friends!" cried he, " whate'er my chance, f am resolv'd to try her." * Mr. Green, St. George's Bowman, lieutenant of number-. t The Medals. X Master of the liooms- § His Grace was president for the day. VOCAL CABINET. 115 So oflf they rode, a gallant band, to seek this famous hare, sirs. Who often in a stone-pit lay, and sure they found her there, sirs ; — So up she got ! and off they went, quite o'er the dale so clever, And brave squire Hewitt cried aloud, " My Blue Cap, now or never !' ' And when they got upon plain ground, swift Blue Cap turn'd her there, sirs, |Jut still the company would bet five guineas on the hare, sirs; Across the dale she took once more, which made their horses whinny, — Yet Hewitt still undaunted cried, " My Blue Cap for a guinea!" For shelter then, to Water Wood, swift flew this gallant hare, sirs. But Blue Cap press'd her scut so close, she durst not enter there, sirs ; Then off she went for Methill's Hall, which was a gallant round, sirs ; When Blue Cap took this famous hare, and on his mas- ter's ground, sirs. And now this band returning home, in spirits, and full force, sirs, O'er good roast beef and bowls of punch, again they ran the course, sirs ; no THE SPORTSMAN'S The clergyman he gave the toast, which some thought mighty clever ; It was the " Squire of Methiirs Hall, and brave Blue Cap for ever." The cock awakes the rosy dawn, And tells approaching day, While Reynard sneaks along the lawn. Belated witli his prey : Oh never think to find thy home. But for thy safety fly ; The sportsman's long proclaimed thy doom, " To-day a fox shall die."j The bugle blows the sporting train, Swift mount the snorting steed ; Each fence defiance bids in vain, ; Their progress to impede : The cover broke, they drive along, And raise a jovial cry ; Each dog barks chorus to my song ; " To-day a fox shall die." Like lightning o'er the hills they sweep. The readiest roads they go ; The five-barr'd gate with ease they leap : Hark forward, tally-ho! The mist hangs on, and scents him strong. The moisture makes it lie ; The woods re-cclio to my song ; " This day the fox must die." VOCAL CABINET. 1 1 " Old reynard, finding shifts in vain, While hounds and horn pursue, Now leaves the woods to try the plain — The bugle sounds a view. Old Threadbrake gaily leads the throng, His bold unerring cry Confirms the burthen of my song — " This day a fox shall die." His funeral knell the bugle blows, His end approaches near ; He reels and staggers as he goes. And drops his brush with fear : More eager now they press along, And louder still the ci-y ; All join in chorus to my song — " To-day the fox must die." •Clear is the air, and the morning is fair. Fellow huntsman, come wind your horn ; Sweet is the breath, and fresh is the earth. That does melt the rind from the thorn : The flowers wax bright with Apollo's light, Newly sprung from the ocean queen ; Where, on a forest plain, may be seen a brave game. Right fit of a prince to be seen. * This curious hunting song was taken from a very rare book, called " \Vit and Drollery," belonging to the celebrated Ritson, 118 THE SPORTSMAN'S Fourteen couple, truly counted, Of hounds, both good and trusty ; And a troop of horsemen, bravely mounted, Of coursers swift and lusty ; Of huntsmen so right, that clear were of sight. To shew the delight, the delight. So ho, ho ; so ho, &c. there she sits. / Then Coridon was frighted, his lambs they were so parted, To hear how they did shout, they hallooM and they whoop'd, Whilst Wat before them started. With halloo, halloo, halloo, halloo, cried the louder ; The earth ne'er bare a braver hare, that ran more strong and prouder ; Swift as a roe she fairly hunts o'er mountains, hills, and dales ; O'er meadoM's, pastures, and o'er fields, over layes and under rayles : And then unto the hunt she gets, she winds the furrs, and plains ; And here and there she runs six miles before she turns again. There might you see proud Strawberry run foaming hard to hold. And Peggabrigge, with all her tricks— 'tis a pity she e'er was old : Robin-red-breast and Shotten-herring, amidst the jovial crew. Did top tlie hounds upon the downs, whilst Wat was in their view. Hark, how the hounds, and the horns, and the horns, VOCAL CABINET. 119 And the hounds, and the huntsmen loud do hollow. Whilst Wat, with nimble feet, doth trip o'er the downs, O'er the downs, o'er the downs, in all her follow : But Wat at the length shew'd them such a trick, That she made them all to stand and to stick, And to cry, Joler, Joler, so ho, &c. Joler there. So many men, so many minds, and so many dogs, and so many kinds •. Some stood staring at the head, and some said she was forward fled ; But one amongst them all, of judgment small, fn faith, he knew that she was dead — For a shepherd crost the fields, with a dog at his heels, That swore " guds-nigs her blond was spilt." Juno then came back again, and compasse wide did go— a. To see if she could hit, and sit in the lands that lay be- low — a. There she try'd, and out she cry'd, with mouth full deep and sweet— a. Which made them all on lier to call, whilst Wat away did creep — a. Hark there, Juno, Juno, so ho, so ho, &c., Juno there. See, see, see where she goes, how she turns over, Juno, and Jupiter, Tinker and Troler, Singwell and IMerryboy, Captain and Cryer, Gingwell and fiinglebell, Fairmaid and Friar, Beauty and Bonnylass, Tanner and Trouncer, Fonier and Forrester, Bonier and Bouncer, Gander and Gondemore, Joler and Jumper, Tarqiiine and Tamberlain, Thunder and Thumper, 120 THE SPORTSMAN'S Over the mountains, and under the vales. Over the fountains, and under the rails. Through the woods that are the thickest. Which the Silvans obey ; O'er the dikes that are the deepest. Puss will find out the waj'. But Wat grew faint, and spent well nigh, A little ease for Charity. Stop the dogs, stay the hounds, give her more breath ; We will see all her tricks before her death. But Wat grew faint, and could no longer run. Her strength was spent, her life was almost done ! And sitting down, she, sighing, seem'd to say. Those whom I trusted did my trust betray. Ye riders, so fam'd in the field and the race. Whose mothers first taught you to lisp " Chevy Chase;" Now own " Chevy Chase" must abate its renown. When compared with the chasing of Elborough Down : For that Nimrod of kunters, so gallant and bold. The brisk colonel Thornton,* as gay as he's old, * The colonel, at one period occupied a vast portion of the pub- lic mind, died at his villa near Paris, 10th March, 1823. Not- withstanding his numerous pursuits, he seldom lost sight of those refinements which characterize the man of literature; his collec- tion of pictures indicated his taste for the fine arts, and the jour- nals he invariably kept during his excursions, &c. and the artists who attended him are sufficient testimonies of his diversified talents and classic pursuits. As ' a mighty hunter,' and an en- thusiastic admirer of field sports in general, colonel T. will be long remembered. VOCAL CABINET. 121 Swore stoutly lie'd give his adventures a sequel. And produce such a hunt as no history can equal. The circles of fashion have settled that age, In cheeses, in ladies, in wine, is the rage ; So he vow"d he would fully give fashion its due. And then turn'd out a stag", which he christened Old Q. The hounds he selected — the pack of all packs — Had nothing but plenty of age on their backs ; While the leader of all, little Modish, appears, " A beautiful bitch, aged thirty-five years!" The colonel, the picture of time, took a freak On a worn-out old hunter, called Modern Antique ; Yet, spite of hard work, looking beauteously fresh ; Only low, like its master, in spirit and flesh. The stag once turn'd down, horse and dog went away. And for forty long miles made most exquisite play ; Till one— then another— fell jaded with pain, And the dead and the dying strew'd Salisbury Plain. Two couples still hunted, unconquer"d and tough ; But the stag now declaring, " He thought he'd enough ;"" And the stag-hounds, not less than the colonel, well-bred, Begg'd leave to decline it — their stomachs were fled : But a knife did the business ! and cut the last twig Of the life of that stag, who now died like a pig ! And now came of all, the most difficult bout. To pick up the rags of this " revellous rout ;"' Some fox hounds, some greyhounds, some terriers, some curs. Some riders with boots, and some boots without spurs ; M 122 THE SPORTSMAN'S Proud ponies, whose pride had experienc'd a fall. And Jupiter hunters, unable to crawl ! The colonel and horse, as the evening grew dark, Were safely convey'd in a cart to Spy Park ! While Modish, whose gaity never could fail. Delightfully gambolld about the cart's tail. Be proud then, Old Sarum ! and long let the strain, 'Midst the chalk-pits and shepherds of Salisbury's Plain, O ! long let thy vallies re-echo the song. Of a hunting so feeble ! so aged ! so long ! — Abounding with facts, which no history can mention, x\nd pompously grac'd by the flowers of invention I Hark ! hark, I think I hear the horn. That chides my long repose ; The dew-drops twinkle on the thorn, Tlie stream in music flows. Hark ! hark, I hear Black Betsy snort. Impatient of the rein ; When nature thus proclaims the sport. Shall man cry out 'tis vain ? For this she lent the gentle hart The vivid lightning's speed ; She taught the hare lier mazy art. And wing'd the generous steed. VOCAL CABINET. 123 Let sages then of human race. The slaves of musty saws ; Decry the pleasures of the chase, ' The fruit of nature's laws. The chase supplied our ancient sires With food and raiment too ; 'Till curs'd ambition fann'd her fires, And bent the sounding yew. The law stretch'd forth her artful toils. And cunning laid her snares ; And plunder gloried in her spoils, And fiird the world with cares. But care does not as yet pursue, The hunter's bounding hoof; And if he even takes a view. That view must be aloof. Success to all hunters, of every degree. Whether clippers, or craners, or hill-top abiders ; The man who hates hunting, he won't do for me, And ought to be scouted by gentlemen riders. There's William the lancer, a go-along chap. Who rides well to hounds, which he seldom rides over ; And Erring the clipper, who fears no mishap To himself, or a Avheat field, or turnips, or clover. John B 1 is not 'midst the coffee-house throng, He's check'd not by steepers, by hedges, or ditches ; And Charles of Coldrinick, he will go a-long. And keep his Welsh nag near the sons of bitches. 124 THE SPORTSMAN'S Who's he on that Lilliput monoptic nag, Who rides o'er the countryman's labour like thunder ; Follo^r him. Raw-one ! he'll tip you the bag, He goes like the wind— he's a sailor, no wonder ! Beliold those two brothers, fence bullying sinners. In bog or rough lane they oft find a bed ; They must live upon spoon meat, andsuckup their dinners. Each tooth must be shaken in each daring head. The Esquire carries John, a most parlous declaimer. Yet he rides like a strayed sheep at every fence ; I have a good brown mare, I hope I shan't lame her. So ril ride thro' the gateways, and exhibit some sense. Then comes William the soldier, who rams like a cork His spurs in the sides of his steed when unwilling. And crams him at hedge, gate, or stile, and 'midst rocks. Not valuing his neck, or his horse, at a shilling. So you've mounted a bay one, a moonseeking leaper, You've mounted a red-coat to show us the way ; L — d will be a most rattling fence clipper. And teach us that following him is no play. Hold hard, master Philip, that runaway courser ; Don't ride at that ash hedge as if seeking death ; [ have a brown mare, up hill I won't force her. For she may be stopp"d by a stoppage of breath. Why, A — n, mj' man, why stick 'midst the ploughing ? Why dig at the chesnut— why lift so your hand ? By George, says old Hilson, the gentleman's sowing With horse-blood, instead of with barley, the land. VOCAL CABINET. 125 But A n'8 a pluck-one, and keeps among hounds, Whate'er be the scent, if it is not too fast ; If his horse be a slow one, he keeps within bounds. But on lame one, or blind one, he never is last. Now boys! see the lads of my own time and standing ; The young ones can't set them, they keep their place still : When a brush is the gain C y will have his hand in. He's a quick chap who leaves him, be he who he will. Christopher keeps a good place over Stall Moor, He's cramming along at a right steady pace ; He looks down from the top of this heavy horse blower. And laughs at the youngsters who're riding a race. All ye who wish to beliold much of the hunting. All ye who wish to be in at tlie death ; Avoid those who at fences are blowing and grunting. Follow John R— s, and spare your nag's breath. But I, my dear friends, am no son of Apollo — From Nimrod himself I my pedigree trace ; And tho' I can't sing well, I can whoop and halloo. And shew my brown mare 'midst the first in the chase. n2 126 THE SPORTSMAN'S Since the days of great Nimrod, when hunting began, How many strange hunts have been follow'd by man, By healthy, by wealthy, poor, fat, lean, and wan : Yet the chase to the men has not been confin'd — The fair too (whom danger can ne'er keep behind) Often hunt, but not after the hare or the bind, In full cry. When the Beau chases Miss, O Lord, what grimace I In lumting— the peer does the same, for a place. The Begums when hunted, ne'er made such a face. Throughout ev'ry degree, by young and by old ; Ambition, or love, or all powerful gold, Is the chase— is the view, that we M'ish to behold, In full cry. To debates, to stone-eaters, plays, readings, we run ; Whatever is mirth, is the fashion, or fun. We hunt and pursue it tho' often undone — In religion, in law, in physic, in trade. The married, the single — man, wife, M'idow, maid. All will hunt for their pleasure— of nothing afraid. In full cry. Come then, follow it up, all ye brave and ye fair ; Ye'U all be at fault, if ye do not beware : Chase sorrow, and sadness, and grey-headed care — Whate'er subject ye chuse, amusement 'twill yield ; Or found in the closet, or sprung in the field ; So ye hunt — what the heart may approve when reveal'd, In full cry. VOCAL CABINET. 127 Come, gentlemen sportsmen, Til sing you a song, Of Marcia's son, who can run the day long ; Otho,* they call him, and he got his name After conquering INIerlin, that racer of fame. At Richmond, the Doctor t and Otho did meet ; The legs, cried, " he's no chance ; the Doctor's too fleet!" But the proud son of Slarcia, disdaining control, Gave the Doctor the go-by, and won the gold bowl.J The Doctor, they say, will be train' d the next year, But I see no reason why Otho's to fear — The laurels now won are not likely to fade ; For if they again meet he'll prove him a jade. * A bay colt, foaled 1S15 ; got by Sir Paul, out of Marcia by Coriander: won the gold cup at Doncaster, in 1819, beating Mr. Fox's Merlin by Castrel, out of Miss Newton by Delpini. f The famous Doctor Syntax, by Paynator, dam by Bening- brough, who, when in training, won twenty gold cups, besides many other stakes. X This race excited much interest, and great betting took place. The Doctor was backed heavily to win, but Sir Walter had many admirers. The Doctor took the lead, and made very severe run- ning ; after going about a mile and a half, it was apparent nothing had a chance of winning but Otho or the Doctor ; they had singled themselves out, and beat their antagonists a very long way, still it was considered certain the Doctor must win; tremendous running took place between the two, but Otho beat his antagonist by about a length. This celebrated race was run at Richmond, on Wed- nesday, October the 6th, 1819. Sii started. 128 THE SPORTSMAN'S He's own'd by squire Garfortli,* wholl win if he can, A friend to the poor, and a very good man ; May success attend then liis honest endeavour, — Here's fair play in racing, and Garforth for ever ! There's no rural sport surpasses Pigeon shooting— circling glasses — Fill the crystal goblet up : No game laws can ever thwart us. Nor qui tarns ; no habeas corpus ;t For our licence Venus grants. Let's be grateful— here's a bumper ; For her bounty— here's a bumper ; 'Listed under beauty's banners, What's to us freehold or manors? Fill the crystal goblet up. No suspense our tempers trying. Endless sport our trap supplying; No ill state 'twixt hope and fear. At magic word our birds appear. Fill the crystal goblet up. Alike all seasons in our favour, O'er vales and hills, no toil or labour. No alloy our pleasures yield. * William Garforth, Esq. a zealous and steady supporter of the turf, died at his residence, Wigginthorpe, near Malton, York- shire, on Sunday, April 6th, 1828, at the good old ageof77 years. Mr. G. was a very excellent landlord, a liberal benefactor to the poor, and a right honest sportsman — v.hose horses always ran " to win if they could," leaving a brilliant example behind him highly worthy of imitation. t The suspension. VOCAL CABINET. 129 No gamekeeper e'er employing, Skill'd ill art of game destroying ; Free from trouble, void of care. We set at nought the poacher's snare — Fill the crystal goblet up. No blank days can ever vex us, No false points can e'er perplex us ; Fill the crystal goblet up : Pigeons, swift as wind, abounding. Detonating guns resounding, See the tow' ring victims fall. With Apollo science vying. View the heaps of dead and dying, Forc'd to pay the debt of nature- Matters it, or soon or later : Fill the crystal goblet up. Bards call themselves a heavenly race ; Topers find heaven in wine ; We, truly boast, who love the chase, An origin divine. The deities all hunters are : Great Jove, who spends his life In hunting of the willing fair. Is hunted by his wife. Then come and wake the drowsy morn, While the swift game we follow, The feather'd throng and tuneful horn Shall join the hunter's halloo. 130 THE SPORTSMAVS Gay Bacchus, on his tun, that hack. Toasts for view-halloos gives, While !Mercury, with Bow-street pack. Scours heaven to hunt for thieves. Bold Mars, a blood-hound, hunts for fame, Nor 'till his latest breath, Will he e"er leave the panting game. But comes in at the death. ' Tlxeu come and wake, &c. Diana in her sacred grove, Saw rash Actseon near. And tho' she seem"d to scorn his love, She took him for her deer ; Yet vex'd to think this hint so sly, On the fool she could not pass, From his own hounds she made him fly. And kill'd him for an ass. Then come and wake, &c. Great Juno, wretched, restless fair, On jealous fury bent, Still in fiill cry is hunting care. And still on a wrong scent. Indeed the fair oft mount their nag, By the hunting mania struck, And if Action was a stag, Poor Vulcan was a buck. Then come and wake, &c. VOCAL CABINET. Let us rejoice, the spring appears ; Nature's sM-eet face the fields adorn • Our gentry's come to Aberdour, Let high and low now cease to mourn. The young gentry are safe come home In health, and learning now complete • Music resounds thro' all the house— Our former griefs have taken flight. Our sportsmen soon will grace the hill A pleasant sight to see and hear To every shot and warlike voice, " Let braes rejoice and give a cheer. His friends and tenants all rejoice Near neighbours, in the country dwell- He II nght the wrong'd in Justice'courts, And send the rogues straight on to jail. Gamekeepers, break and air your dogs In order for the mountain's sport : Great Aberdour we'll meet him there. Our former favourite resort. We shall have pleasant hunting days Ne-er hungry be, nor thirsty ' He brings great store of meat from home. And plenty of old whisky 131 132 THE SPORTSMAN'S He's gart my back oft crak and sweat With ponderous loads of his dead game- Nearly as big's a fisher's creel, I oft brought trailing to our hame. I'll wager twenty pounds of gold. My fee, and somewhat better, Had he an aim at Bony's head. His brains he would out scatter. And when our game-bags are all full. At Kettrine Wells sure there we'll dine Get our auld heathy tables there, And rest, and talk of auld lang syne. Just as lovers, when they're parted, ' Review the haunts, they did resort. Regret that those sweet hours are fled, And wishing back their former sport. *' Anything's fun in the country," you know. Or else in rainy weather. What would we poor rustics do, For weeks and weeks together? We laugh, we drink, we dance, we sing, And away dull care to the devil we fling. For anything's fun in the country. VOCAL CABINET. 133 Awak'd at six, the squire cries. Well, Robert, what's the weather? Oh, sir, it rains, the man replies. Tlien draw the curtains together ; For if I can't hunt, Til sleep again. So shut the door, and call me at ten, For anything's fun in the country. After breakfast, the parson he comes in. From a christening dripping wet ; They talk of the news, backgammon propose. And down they quickly sit : The parson's a deep one, and fleeces the squire. Who curses the dice, throws the box in the fire, For anything's fun in the country. Shall we go to the stable ? what say you ? agreed — And aM'ay they walk together, with speed. The state of the stud run over; Secure from wind and weather : They settle to meet on the next hunting day. Examine the corn, and smell to the hay. For anything's fun in the country. O'er spavins and windgalls they gravely discuss. To pass the time away. Shake up the litter, Tom, under yon horse ; Not that, I mean the bay ; Reach me the scissars. Jack, down from that shelf: This grey horse wants trimming ; I'll trim liim myself. For anything's fun in the country. 134 THE SPORTSMAN'S After dinner, the bottle goes quickly round, Madeira, Port, and Sherry ; Without the roof, the tempest roars. Within, each heart is merry ; Then who would be puzzled to pass time away. Or want a resource 'gainst a cold rainy day, When anything's fun in the country. The storm grows louder, now louder the laugh ; Draw closer round the fire. And whilst the wind whistles a bumper we'll quaff To the lass we most admire ; We laugh, we drink, we dance, we sing, And away dull care to the devil we flinsf. For anything's fun in the country. The world is amazingly full of deceit. Incredible numbers are given to cheat ; And among the more honest, too many are found. Who will hold with the hare, and run with the hound. Tally-ho, &c. The prince, heaven preserve him, at taking a leap, And the sportsmen at large who their game strictly keep, Which they doom to the chase ; at the horn's cheerful sound, Clearly hold with the hare, and yet run with the hound. Tally-ho, &c. The parson, who shows no true zeal for the church ; Who, allured by the world, leaves his flock in the lurch ., VOCAL CABINET. 135 While conventicles flourish, dissenters abound. Clearly holds with the hare, and yet runs with the hound. Tally-ho, &c. The lawyer, who takes from his client a fee, And tells hiin his cause is as good as can be ; Yet, on sight of a bribe, lets it fall to the ground. Clearly holds with the hare, and yet runs with the hound. Tally-ho, &c. The suitor, whose favourite object is pelf, Who kisses his girl, yet loves none but himself. Can never be happy, in wedlock when bound. For he holds with the hare, and yet runs with the hound. Tally-ho, &c. The youth, who, with two or three strings to his bow. Leaves his fair to a different market to go. Tells the same tale to all, and makes love a mere sound. Clearly holds with the hare, and yet runs Avith the hound. Tally-ho, &c. The merchant, mechanic, belle, beau, nymph, and swain. To enumerate all, my endeavours are vain ; For each sex, and all classes, with objects abound. Who will hold with the hare, and yet run with the hound. Tally-ho, &c. From the field of wild tares, seeds of wheat may we glean. May we never act treacherous, dirty, or mean ; May our friends be sincere, and our neighbours around. Scorn to hold with the hare, while they run with the hound. Tally-ho, &c. 136 THE SPORTSMAN'S At the back of Old Walthara, stands high the king's oak,* Once kept bj- Sam Gret'rex,+ a true hearted fellow ; Some neighbours were met there to laugh, drink, and smoke. To lighten the heart, and to make the head mellow. Our tapster Avas lord of a Avarren, beside. But long robb"d by a badger that wander'd by night, AVhich had forc'd him that morning a trap to provide. In hope he might usher the culprit to light. The guests being pleas'd at all Philpot had done. Agreed one and all to attend the event ; To rise the next morning before the bright sun. And haste to examine what fortune had sent. At the grey of the morn ere Aurora was seen, We were rous'd up from our beds of repose ; And, being refresh'd with a mug on the green. Set off to look out for our game-killing foes. The warren was near, something less than a mile ; Our landlord, who long'd for the warrener's sport, Was witty, and sang us a song to beguile The time, we'd to lose in the needful resort. At length we arriv'd where the wild race abound : As each scamper' d away to his earth-hole, or gap * 'I'he royal oak near High-spear. f The landlord who kept it for many years. VOCAL CABINET. 137 But (more to divert us) we presently found A swinging old badger, secure in the trap : We bagg"d liim in haste, and returned whence we came, 'Twere folly a moment of time to delay ; The terriers that followed, were all of true game, So we bore him, all jocund, in triumph away. A saw-pit was near, and we bundled him in. The dogs swift as hail-stones were close to his heels ; Our landlord impatient the sport should begin, Proclaim'd all his crimes, his own losses reveals. Like a dragon he fought, with tooth and with nail ; For an hour by the house clock continu'd the strife : At length overpower' d our terriers prevail. And the badger, unpitied, relinquished his life. Dick Martin,* the butcher, of Waltham was there, Long us"d in the blood of his victims to paddle ; He stripp"d off the skin, that mine hostess mig-ht share, And she made for her filly a nice hunting saddle. When as the hand at Tennis plays, And men to gaming fall ; Love is the court, Hope is the house, And Favour serves the ball. * Of Wahham Abbey, a good fellow and, as a matter of course, a keen sportsman. N 2 138 THE SPORTSMAN'S This ball itself is due desert, Tlie line that measure shows Is reason, whereon judgment looks Where players win and lose. The tutties are deceitful shifts ; The stoppers, jealousy. Which hath, sir, Argus' hundred eyes. Wherewith to watch and pry. The fault, whereon fifteen is lost. Is want of wit and sense ; And he that brings the racket in Is double diligence. But now the racket is free will, Which makes the ball rebound ; And noble beauty is the choice. And of each game the ground. The racket strikes the ball away, And there is oversight ; A bandy, ho ! the people cry, And so the ball takes flight. Now at thn length good liking proves Content to be their gain ; Thus, in the Tennis-Court, love is A pleasure mixed with pain. VOCAL CABINET. 139 This bleak and frosty morning, All thoughts of danger scorning. Our spirits briskly flow ; \Ve"re all in a glow, Through the sparkling snow, While a skating we go, With a fa, la, la, la, la, la, la. To the sound of the merry horn : From right to left we're plying. Swifter than winds we're flying ; Spheres on spheres surrounding, Health and strength abounding. In circles we sleep ; Our poise still we keep, Behold how we sweep The face of the deep, With a fa, la, la, la, la, la, la. To the sound of the merry horn. Great Jove looks on us smiling, Who thus the time beg-uiling ; When the Avaters he seal, Still rove on our keel. Our weapons are steel. And no danger we feel, With a fa, la, la, la, la, la, la : See, see our train advances. See how each skater lances ; Health and strength abounding. While horns and oboes sounding : 140 THE SPORTSMAN'S The Tritons shall blow Their cone-shells below. And their beards fear to shew. While a skating we go, With a fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, To the sound of the merry horn. No, no, 'tis in vain in this turbulent town. To expect either pleasure or rest : To hurry and nonsense still tying us down, 'Tis an overgrown prison at best. From hence to the country escaping away. Leave the ground and the bustle behind ; And then you'll see liberal Nature display A thousand delights to mankind. The change of the seasons, the sports of the fields. The sweet diversified scene ; The groves and the gardens, and every thing yields A cheerfulness ever serene. Here, here from ambition and avarice free, My days may I quietly spend ; Whilst the cits and the courtiers unenvied for me, May,gather up wealth without end. No, I thank them, I would not, to add to my store, My peace and my freedom resign ; For who, for the sake of possessing the ore. Would be sentenced to dig in the mine. VOCAL CABINET. 141 Whilst thousands court fair Chloe's love, She fears the dangerous joy ; But, Cynthia like, fi-equents the grove. As lovely and as coy. With the same speed she seeks the hind. Or hunts the flying hare ; She leaves pursuing swains behind. To languish and despair. Oh, strange caprice in thy dear breast, Whence lii'st this whim began ; To follow thus each worthless beast. And shun their sovereig"n man ! Consider, fair, what 'tis you do. How thus they both must die ; Not surer they, when you pursue. Than we, whene'er you fly. Of all the joys that sporting yields, Give me to beat the stubble fields Quite early in September : A brace of pointers, stanch and true, A gun that kills whatever I view, I care not whether old or new. Are things one must remember. Old Ponto makes a famous point. As marble stiff, in ev"ry joint, 142 THE SPORTSMAN'S I cautiously proceed : When quickly up the covey fly — Bang, bang — both barrels then I try— And lo ! a brace before me die. The shooter's richest meed ! If hares I M'ant for friends in town, I can tell where to knock them down Within the furze-bush cover : A leash I ba^, then homeward go. My spirits all in joyous flow, And more delight, I'm sure, I know, Than doth a beauty's lover. In wintry woods, when leaves are dead. And hedges beam with berries red. The pheasant is my spoil : Fenc'd with high gaiters out I go. And beat through tangled bushes low ; Each joy of mine my spaniels know, Though wand'ring many a mile. At night return'd, my bag well fiU'd, Perchance four brace of pheasants kill'd, I sit me down in peace ; And envy not ambition's cares. Nor e'en the crown a monarch wears ; Such joys as mine he seldom shares — Oh, may that joy ne'er cease. VOCAL CABINET. 143 Hi'zzA, hoys! the royal command* has heen given, And foxes no more are to perish ; The foes of our sport to despair will be driven. Since the king that brave sport deigns to cherish. Fill a bumper, ye Nimrods, wherever ye be, - And heed not what logic or Locke says ; Be this your good toast, all upstanding, in glee, " Here's the king, the preserver of foxes!" On the road to the covert, and when by its side. Ere reynard, the sly one, is started Through the chase, when a word can be chang'd as they ride. On returning when day is departed, All, all will be full of this glorious news, They will prate not of horses and doxies ; But the theme will be this, that each veteran will choose — Our good king, the preserver of foxes. At night, when the polish'd mahogany groans. With the weight of the good things upon it ; When the glasses go round with their musical tones. And each man gives his song or his sonnet. * This song, so truly expressive of the right sort of feeling, was suggested by the pleasing intelligence, to all foxhunters, of His Majesty Geo. IV. having ordered that foxes should no longer be destroyed on the Royal domain. Hear this, ye vulpecides ! It may be added that it was v?ritten by J. M. Lacey; that it appeared in The Sporting Magazine ; and is set to the very ap- propriate tune of " The King ! God bless him." 144 THE SPORTSMAN'S Let 's contrive that each chaunt, whether sung from tlie chair. By the Joneses, the Greenwoods, or Coxes ; Shall for once have this hurthen, whatever the air, A good king, a good chase, and good foxes ! Grown tired of the town, and its noisy pursuit, I sat oif one morning in June ; Kesolv'd my dull spirits once more to recruit, I at Richmond arrived ahout noon : Stopped there, where the current the royal shore hems, With a thousand gay objects in front ; At the Old Silver Cross, by the side of the Thames, T hir'd me a fisherman's punt. I circled the isle, for the day was serene, All things seera'd my pleasures to court ; So I anchor'd my boat off the meadows so green, And prepar'd for a summer's day sport. My tackle was charming, and plenty in store, My fly-line in order, my rod to my wish. And clear of the bull-rushy sedge by the shore, T began to look out for the fish. Roach, dace, and brisk gudgeons, in numbers arise, With the l)arbcl that skulk by the mill ; And Fortune, inclin'd to present mc a prize, Sent a salmon to cope with my skill. Gay trout, the sharp pike, and the nimble finn'd bream, T caught with my hook of Kirby's best l)ent ; And sometimes [ troll'd in the stream. VOCAL CABINET, 145 The sun was now sunk the horizon below, When Old Time, that importunate friend. Told me, in friendship, the way Fd to go : So unwilling the sage to offend, T pack'd up my store and made haste to the land ; Bade Richmond farewell, that hill of delight: The fam'd London stage being next to my hand, I leap'd in, and was home before night. Now wend M'e together, my merry men, all, Unto the green wood side-a. And there to kill a buck or a doe, Let you cunnings all be tried-a ; No man may compare with Robin Hood, With Robin Hood's Stathbatch and John-a. TTie like was never, nor never shall be, In case that they were gone-a : Then let us not linger away the time. But hie to the merry green wood-a. And there to strike down a buck or a doe. For my master Robin Hood -a : For my master Robin Hood-a. Here's a health to them that can ride ; Here's a health to them that can ride ! And those who don't wish good luck to the cause, May they roast by their own fire-side ! o 146 THE SPORTSMAN'S It's good to drown Care in the chase, It's good to drown Care in the bowl; It's good to support Daniel Haigh and his hounds. Here's his health from the depth of the soul ! CHORUS. Hurrah for the loud tally-ho ! Hurrah for the loud tally-ho ! It's good to support Daniel Haigh and his hounds, And echo the shrill tally-ho ! Here's a health to them that ride well ! Here's a health to them that ride bold ! May the leaps and the dangers that each has defied. In columns of sporting be told ! Here's freedom to him that would walk! Here's freedom to him that would ride ! There's none ever feared that the horn would be heard. Who the joys of the chase ever tried. Hurrah for the loud tally-ho ! Hurrah for the loud tally-ho ! It's good to support Daniel Haigh and his hounds. And halloo the loud tally-ho. * * The above lines were written over the mahogany, out of pure respect and admiration of Daniel Haigh, Esq. master of the old Surrey fox-hounds, after a most brilliant run, on the 17th of March, 1828. Found near the Half-Moon, on the Godstone road, and went off at a racing pace for forty-five minutes, and killed at Westerham in Kent, after a very circuitous route, in an hour and twenty minutes ; unfortunately in a gentleman's garden of that place, to the total destruction of early peas, and flower beds. The only recompense which could be made, was, by pre- senting the lady of the house with the brush. VOCAL CABINET. 147 Of fox hunters now we've got a fresh store. For the Thorndon crack hounds, a few mornings ago,* Unkennell'd a fox, so close to the shore. Old Neptune's view-halloo Avas heard at the Nore ; And Venus, with sea nymphs at least a full score, Arose from the water, and cried tally-ho. Southend, in amazement, beheld the strange sight. The bathing machines were all set a going ; The ladies popp'd in, and popp'd out in a fright. Whilst the sportsmen enjoy'd a new source of delight. And ships crowded sail, and boats came in rowing. But the fox flew the country for six miles around. And great was the rabble and rout ; The boats and the shipping were all run aground. The horses of Neptune bad goers were found, And Venus herself was thrown out. They kill'd very soon, and the season thus ended. Who to hunting shall set any bounds ? For the sport, though so good, may still be amended. Since we are by Venus and Neptune befriended. The ocean shall ne'er stop our hounds. * This remarkable chase took place in April, 1817. 148 THE SPORTSMAN'S O, WuLLY ! liad toil nobbet been at Burgh Races .'* It seeiu'd, lad, as if aw the vrarl were met ; Some went to be seen, others off for divarsion. And monie went there a lock money to bet : The cup was aw siller, and letter' d reet neycely, A feyne naig they've put on"t, for by my Iword's neame ; It hods nar a quart, for monie drank out on't, And open'd their gills till they cu'dn't creep hearae. There was, ' How fens te. Tommy ?' — ' What, I wosep! is gaily : ' Wey, is there ought unket i' your country seyde ?' ' Here, lanl word ! a noggin !' — ' Whea rides the Collector ?' ' What Aleason" auld neer can bang aw far and wide '.' There was snaps, yell, nuts, gingerbread, shwortceakes and brandy. And tents full o' ham, beef, and nowble veal pye ; There was Greenup wi' a reet and true list o' the horses, The neames o' the awners and reyders forby. * Some villages in Cumberland have their annual horse races. The prize is commonly a saddle or a bridle, and the horses, the property of the neighbouring lairds and farmers, with- out any previous traininji, are brought from the plough or cart to the course. When the race is finished, the country lads proceed with theirsweethearts to the village ale-house, where they dance, sing, drink, and talk over the adventures of the day. The races celebrated in this ballad took place on the 3d of May, 1804, at Brougk, or Burgh, a village in the neighbourhood of Carlisle. VOCAL CABINET. 149 Ere they saddl'd, the gamlers peep'd sair at the horses; Ses scrudgin, the fwok were just ready to brust : Wi' swearin and bettin, tliey raeade a sad hay-bay : ' 111 lig six to four !'— Don ! come down wi' the dust ! * VVhat think ye o' Lawson?' — ' The field for a guinea !' — ' 111 mention the winner ! Dare onie yen lay ?" Jwohn Blaylock, reed handkitcher wavd at the dissnens: At startin, he cried, ' Yen, twee, three, put away 1" They went off like leetnin — the auld meer's a topper : She flew like an arrow, and shew'd tem her tail ; rhey hugg'd, whupp'd, andspurrVl, but cud niver yence touch her — They winners they rear'd, and the Iwosers tum'd pale. Peer Lawson gat dissen'd, and sae sud the tudders; Furst heat was a chase, and the neist a tek-iu ; Then some drank their winnins : but, wofu' disaster ! It rain'd, and the lasses gat wet to the skin. Like pez in a pot, neist Sandsfield thej^ caper'd : The lads did the lasses sae kittle and hug ; Young Crosset, I fettle, had got bran new pumps on, And brong fisher Jemmy a clink i' the lug : The lasses they belder'd out, ' Man thysel, Jemmy,' His comrades they poud oflF his cwoat and his sark ; They fit, lugg'd, and lurry'd, aw owre blood and batter, The lanlword com in, and cried, ' Shem o' sec wark !" 2 150 THE SPORTSMAN'S There were smugglers, excisemen, horse-cowpers, and parsons, Sat higglety-pigglety, aw fare alike ; And mowdy-warp Jacky — ay, man, it was funny I He meade them aw laugh when he stuck in a creyke. There were lasses frae Wigton, and Worton, and Banton, Some o' them gat sweethearts, while others gat neane ; And bairns yet unbworn '11 oft hear o' Burgh races. For ne'er muu we see sec a meetin agean. A TRUCE with your vapours, refinement, and stuff, Your airs, and your graces, and outlandish lingo ; Give me but my health, and just riches enough, To relish my pipe with a bottle of stingo ; My gun in good order, my dogs in good training, And never, no never, you'll hear me complaining. Life flies like a shot, and the indolent man Who neglects it, enjoys but a flash in the pan. I pity the miser, whose phlegm.atic heart Can only inspire him to bury his guineas ; I pity this life, all who act a wrong part, i And make their own ills, like a parcel of ninnies : The churl who to others no kindness dispenses, I only regard as one out of his senses ; For life's like a shot, and the indolent man Who neglects it, enjoys but a flash in the pan. VOCAL CABINET. 151 Music everj- charm reveals ; Music heightens every joy ; Music every feeling steals. Warms the heart so fair and coy. But, oh! when we hear at the rising of morn, The echo so sweet of the full sounding horn ; Xo longer we feel the soft strains that arise, But throb with delight at tlie tally-ho cries. Music cheers the love-sick maid ; Raises tumult in the breast : Leaves our M-arning griefs behind. Makes our feelings doubly blest. But, oh ! could we hear at the rising of morn, The echo so sweet of the full sounding horn ; "Twould raise in our bosoms so mighty a fire, Tliat love and pale grief in the blaze would expire. Sweet the cheering notes that rise. From the maiden's tender reed ; In a thousand symphonies, Curling o'er the velvet mead. But, oh ! what are these to the rising of morn, When we hear the mild echoing of the blithe horn ; The bosom's no lono-er dilated with love, Or lists to the notes that so languishing move. Let the heart in lonely sadness Drooping, melancholy go. Till it reach the verge of madness, By the heaviness of woe. 152 THE SPORTSMAN'S Oh ! once could it hear at the rising of morn. The echo so sweet of the full sounding horn : That moment relief, with so kindly a zest, Would thaw thro' the dark frozen wilds of the breast. Then come, my brave boys, since your spirits are high, Give vent to the feelings that rapidly fly. Nor ever forget that first rising of morn, You heard the sweet note of the full sounding horn. Stay, sylvan friend, with plenty blest, Who scorn"st the niggard's icy breast ; And as alone, at early morn. You brush the thicket, trace the lawn ; List, to what slugs Amintor : — To thee the friendly hint is sent, Where more than meets the ear is meant ; The while with dog and gun you roam, Tliink on your townsman far from home, Deny'd the sports of winter. The reapers' moon and harvest past. Rude blows the equinoctial blast ; Ah! now my rural friend, beware, This season claims thy utmost care ; Health bids thee store, nor stint her— Survey thy cot, secure thy roof, Soon make it rain and tempest proof; So when the sable cloud falls low. Thy hearth shall yield the pleasing glow. That soothes the rage of winter. VOCAL CABINET. 158 When Easter chicks hegin to crow, And azure decks the mountain sloe ; When forest trees Mear sickly hues, And agues wait on ev'ning dews. Lay up for liealth, nor stint her— Prepare the ham, the fowl, the chine, Nor spare the produce of the vine ; Fill, fill thy stores with glowing coal, And something for thy Christmas bowl. To cheer thy friends in winter. Refurbish up thy warm surtout. The buckskin giove and friendly boot ; And let the hat that shields thy head. Around in ample cover spread : This do for health, nor stint her— Above the rest, be this your care, Use morning exercise and morning air ; And this youll find of such avail. While city fops look thin and pale, You'll wear the rose in winter. And now farewell, till Flora spreads Her vernal mantle o'er our heads ; May Peace o'er Britain still preside, And Justice sword and balance guide ; Nor partial power o'er stint her — And may you, 'midst your stock of cheer. When old and dreary sinks the year. Think on thy poet's friendly wish ; Nor hold those comforts* from his dish, Which smooth the frowns of winter. * Game. 1^4 THE SPORTSMAN'S No life's like the hunter's, no joy like the sport, No pleasures like those of the chase : We envy not such as are dangling at court. For some fid-faddle pension or place. To the summit of grandeur the proud man may rise. The miser may revel in wealth ; While the chase we pursue, gives constant supplies Of good-fellowship, gladness, and health. As the stout pack we follow, each trouble of life Is forgotten and left far behind : We know not the names of contention and strife, And cast all our cares to the wind. We breathe the keen air, mount the hill, sink the dale, While the swift-flyini,^ game is in view ; Nor think, for a moment, our pleasures can fail. And laugh at old Death and his crew. Brother sportsmen, to listen don't fail, I had it from honest John Cottle ; You'll say 'tis a comical tale. But as true as you sit o'er the bottle. Old John was, one ^lichaelmas morn. Ranging al)out in the stubble ; After brushing through many a thorn. He put up a hare full of trouble. VOCAL CABINET. 155 His pointers were eager for sport. His greyhounds he left at his cottage ; Their mistress, dame Cottle, to court. To come in for a share of her pottage. The hare to her wits end was put. From the stubbles took over the tillage ; And finding the hounds at her scut. For shelter flew into the village ; Where an old wife, they call goody Jones, Was singing a glee at her spinning — As if drawn by her musical tones. The hare made a forcible inning. She took up the old woman's coats. And cried like an infant to melt her ; When moved by her piteous notes, Dame determined to give her a shelter. The hounds, who had never lost scent. Were now at the door of the hovel ; And eager to folloAV their scent. Got in by a manner quite novel. The casement was open for air, Where dame, with her arms sat a kimbo ; When the dogs, to come up with the hare, Leap'd in at the old woman's window. 1S6 THE SPORTSMAN'S No time for a parley was spent, 'Tis coM'ardly, tamely, to hover ; They knew where to find by scent, And Bonney flew up to the cover. 'Twas now a smart sight, I declare, Dame Jones, in her strength did not dwindle : She determin"d to shelter the hare. And she beat forth the dogs with her spindle. Gaffer Cottle came up in the nick. When to see his poor hounds ruffly treated. He gave the old woman a kick. And her nails soon the battle completed. She drove the clown out of her cot. And the dogs she sent after their master, To moan for his scarified lot ; And to cover his face with a plaster. Goody Jones was a comical wag. And knew how to struggle Mnth trouble ; She poppd the hare into a bag. And gave it again to the stubble. Ye sportsmen, so merry and kind. Should you meet with old Cottle's disaster. May you soon have the pleasure to find, A friend who will give you a plaster. VOCAL CABINET. 157 Hark ! thro' the woods the- rising sound Of mellow horn, and cheerful hound ; While thro' the dingle, copse, or brake. Our course in swift pursuit we take ; And the huntsman's cry. As we onward fly, Is shouted by the joyous crew, 'Till the woods resound — au loup! au loup! Now, as perchance, our prey shall guide, Along the sloping mountain's side. Onward and onward still we trace The sound of the retiring chase ; And the huntsman's cry, As we onward fly, Tho' shouted by the joyous crew. Is faintly heard — au loup ! au loup ! Then as the wolf attempts in vain. The covert of the woods to gain. He turns our gallant dogs to bay ! Our stanch dogs seize their destin'd prey! And the huntsman cries. As the monster dies. Whilst loudly shouts the joyous crew. And the hills resound — au loup ! loup ! To live a life, free from gout, pain, or phthisic. Athletic employment is found the best physic ; p 158 THE SPORTSMAN'S The nerves are by exercise hardened and strengthened. And vigour attends it, by which life is lengthened. Derry down, &c. &c. What conduces to health deserves recommendation, 'Twill entail a strong race on the next generation ; And of all the field- games ever practised or known, That cricket stands foremost each Britain must own. Derry down, &e. &c. Let dull pensive souls boast the pleasures of angling. And o"er ponds or brooks be eternally dangling ; Such drowsy worm-killers are fraught with delight. If but once in a week they obtain a fair bite. Derry down, Sec. &c. The cricketer, noble in mind, as in merit, A taste for oppression can never inherit ; A stranger to swindling, he never would wish. To seduce by false baits, and betray a poor fish. Derry down, &c. &c. No stings of remorse hurt the cricketer's mind ; To innocent animals never unkind ; The guiltless, his doctrine is ever to spare, Averse to the hunting or killing the hare. Derry down, &c. &c. We knights of the bat the pure ether respire. Which, heightened by toil, keeps alive nature's fire ; No suits of crim-con or divorce, can assail us. For in love, as in cricket, our powers never fail us. Derry down, &rc. &c. VOCAL CABINET. 159 To every great duke, and to each noble lord, Let each fill his glass with most hearty accord ; And to all brother knights, whether absent or present. Drink health and success, from the peer to the peasant. Ye sportsmen young, who seek the fens. In chill October's short'ning day, When the shy wild-duck downward bends. Around the weedy shores to stray ; List to a veteran brother's song. Who oft has trac'd the swampy soil. With spaniels brisk, to quest among The whistling reeds and willows tall. Mark, when in many a winding maze. Before the breeze the wild flocks scud ; Or dive in wanton form, again to raise Their dappled plumes above the flood ; To glut the ooze, or spawn to steal. That glides upon the wat'ry way ; To rob the fisher of his promis'd meal, And fatten on the finny prey ; Then, mark the mallard, or he's gone, While yet his blue wing braves the sun ; As with oary feet he paddles on. Give him the burden of thy gun. 160 THE SPORTSMAN'S Or, if tis best the Muse should sing The better task that brings renown ; Salute the wanton on liis azure Aving, And to thy spaniels bring him down. Now, to delight their master's eye, Nor heed obstruction by the way. They strive, as through the waves they ply. Who first shall seize the feather" d prey. Ah ! what avails thy gaudy plume, Thy form (proud bird!) and threat'ning note. Since leaden death has wrought thy doom, And rent the beauties of thy coat. Thy wing-mates court thy charms no more ; Without their leader doom'd to roam. They transport seek on yonder shore. To dissipate a widow'd home. So 'tis with us of high pretence, Array' d in gold, in pleasures rife ; One fatal moment drives us hence, From friends and all the charms of life. This ag-e is a chase, from the time we draw breath. The present, the future, the past ; And tho' all must yield to the grand archer, Death, The sport is kept up to the last. VOCAL CABINET. 161 'Fhe statesman's a huntsman ; ambition's his game ; The soldier for glory contends ; The sailor for England emblazons his fame, And ranks with her dearest of friends. I'he patriot 's a lion, his country the field. He chooses to run down her foes ; The courtier's a spaniel, will supple and yield, And a coxcomb's a jay in fine clothes. The bailiff 's a kite, ever bent on his prey ; The bully's a magpie, all talk ; The miser a muck-worm appears night and day ; And a lawyer's a blood-sucking hawk. The prude is a fox, rather crafty and sly, Pretending aversion to sin ; The coquet's an eel, that demands a sharp eye, And frequently not worth a pin. The wife, loving wife, is the pride of the chase. And life's gloomy evening cheers ; And where is the Ininter can't easily trace. The sweet temper' d girls are all deers ! Don't you know me ? Jenny Dash ! Every where the go and flash! Every sportsman's known to me ; Every jockey cries, " that's she !" No where but my fame is up. Since I won the silver cup '• p 2 1G2 THE SPORTSMAN'S I'm up to each rig, Trot a pony, drive a gig, Or dashingly can whip four in hand ; On a colt of Eclipse I glory in high leaps, At a five-barr'd gate ne'er shilli shalli stand : Each huntsman of the field. To my horsemanship must yield, When I fly o'er the dew, With the game in my view. And the dogs are all cheer'd by the sound -of ray voice. Then on, on. Dash along ! Over mountains of snow. Or the levels below ; If the weather be foul. Or the weather be fair ; If the wind blow here. Or the wind blow there ; O'er high ruts. Or low ruts. Or no ruts, Yoix! This, this is the life of ray choice. W^ould you more about me know, I can handle the cross-bow ; Drive the mail the whole night long, Give a sentiment or song. Take my bottle fairly down. And drink myself into renown! With ray dogs I walk out. Scour the country about, VOCAL CABINET. 103 And all flying game I bring down : Drive luy tandem in style, But a minute to a mile, And on Newmarket turf ray fame's known : As I prance o'er the cotii"se. Full of spirit my horse. All the knowing ones cry, " That's the girl of my eye !" And all flock in crowds to the sound of my voice ! Then done, done. Done and done, Are the cries that resound, When I start for the ground ; Like an arrow I fly. All my rivals dart by ; As the goal I draw near. Not a sentence you hear — But she wins. Now she beats, Now she's home- Hurrah I This, this is the life of my choice! To the sports of the field. Since mankind mostly yield, And thousands the exercise claim ; To speak about that Which puzzles the state, I sing of the laws of the game.- 164 THE SPORTSMAN'S If affairs we turn o'er, Tlie year eighty-four, Displays parliamentary fame ; Many strange acts were sign'd. But the strangest we find. Is that which relates to the game. I'he national debt. To reduce or defeat, Our senators, think what a shame ! Half the pains never take. Or disturbances make. As they do about killing the game. That the birds safe may be, Ev'ry session we see, Their guardians at something fresh aim ; But each act, instead Of preserving, 'tis said. Destructive turn out to the game. Penal laws to enforce, Make matters still worse ; Many manors (then think who's to blame) Old sportsmen beat round. Not a bird to be found. And gentlemen buy their own game. Reason's bounds are o'er-run. When those wise laws we shun. Which nature thought proper to frame ; For what greater right Has a duke, lord, or knight, Than any one else to the game. VOCAL CABINET. 1G5 Those subtle encroachers, The artful night-poachers, At every fresh act that is got. Will prick up their ears, For the birds will be theirs, Without using powder or shot. We've a parliament new, And taxes not few. For all to be tax'd must submit ; IVIucb deceived they must be, Who at once thouglit to see, Their grievances drown'd in a Pitt. Tho' Billy, 'tis known. This mischief was done Before you had hold of the reins. Yet the burthens you've laid. Bear so hard upon trade. Most bitterly commerce complains. On dogs a smart tax. Not a sportsman would vex. Next year, if the budget 'twill suit : Let that be the last We're to have, and what's past. We'll pardon, and thank you to boot. When we sportsmen at table so jollily sit. When the bumpers are crown' d, and around flies the wit ; When we tell, o'er the bottle, the feats of the day. What's the toast ? but " Success to fox-hunting, huzza !" 3 66 THE SPORTSMAN'S When we shooters at night-fall are jovially placed. When our pouch is laid bj', and our spaniels at rest ; When to finish the glass but a chosen few stay, What's the toast? but" Successto cock-shooting,— huzza!"" Away ye dull cits ! and ye finical race. Who hate, 'cause afraid of, tlie gun and the chase ; Is a fall or a halter, the best death, 1 pray ? For one you must come to— hark forward, huzza ! Round the board let the full sparkling bumpers then pass, A toast to fox-hunting, your friend, and your lass ; Then to rest, my brave boys, that with joy the next day, You may join the glad cry — tally-ho ! gone away ! " Oh ! day of joy ! long wish'd for day I" The sportsman cries, and bends his way: The air is fresh, the morning clear. The fields in spangled green appear ; Good dogs look out, Ring-, Swift, and Fly, This day the pheasant race must die. Soft, softly, boys '. the morn is young. And far the distance yet to run. Soft, softly ! oh, that point from Ring Declares asouietiiiug on the spring : The rush is made — the pheasant flies. The mark too sure— he falls — he dies! Jsor him alone — stern rigid fate Has kill'd liis partner, love, and mate ; Those sun-bright feathers smear'd with gore. Make known too plain tliey breatlie no more. " Oh day of joy !" the sportsman cries, " This day, this day the pheasant dies!" VOCAL CABINET. 167 Albeit, gentle angler, I Delight not in thy trade ; Yet in th}- pages there doth lie So much of quaint simplicity. So much of mind. Of such good kind, TTiat none need be afraid, Caught by thy cunning bait, this book, To be ensnared on thy hook. Gladly from thee I'm lured to bear AVith things that seemed most vile before. For thou didst on poor subjects rear Matter the Misest sage miglit hear : And with a grace That doth efface More laboured works, thy simple lore Can teach us, that thy skilful lines More than the scaly brood confines. Our hearts and senses too, we see. Rise quickly at thy master hand. And ready to be caught by thee, Are lured to virtue willingly : ._^ Content and peace ; AVith health and ease. Walk by thy side ; at thy command. We bid adieu to worldly care. And joy in gifts that all may share. 168 THE SPORTSMAN'S Gladly with thee I pace along, And of sweet fancies dream ; Waiting till some inspired song, Within my memory cherished long. Comes fairer forth, With more of worth ; Becanse that Time upon its stream Feathers and chaff will bear away. But gives to gems a brighter ray.* Come, jolly sportsman, come saddle your mare, The hounds are all out and the morning is fair ; The fox has broke cover, and gallantly bounds O'er the hills and the dales, while the echo resounds.— CHORUS. Hark ! Dian, hark ! the game is nig-h, The'huntsman in view, and the hounds in full cry. Never ye mind what dull cits say. But follow the hounds, and drive dull care away ; That when ye return to your plentiful board, Ye may over your bottle the day's work record ; And with hearts (piite elated, with joy ye may sing, " Success to fox-hunting, your country and king." Hark ! Dian, hark ! the game is nigh, The huntsman in view, and the hounds in full cry. * A noble lady, long distinguished at court for pre-eminent beauty and grace, and whose mind possesses undying charms, wrote the above in Sir Humphrey Davy's copyof " Walton's Angler." VOCAL CABINET. 169 A wEAtTHY young squire, of Tamworth, we hear. He courted a nobleman's daughter so fair. And to marry her it was his intent. All friends and relations had given their consent. The time was appointed for the wedding day, A young farmer was appointed to give her away ; As soon as the lady the farmer did spj% He inflamed her heart— O my heart '. she did cry. She turned from the squire, tho' nothing she said. Instead of being married she took to her bed. The thought of the farmer still run in her mind, A way for to have him she quickly did find. Coat, waistcoat, and breeches she then did put on. And hunting she went, with her dog and her gun; She hunted all round M-h^re the farmer did dwell ; Because in her heart she did love him full well. She oftentimes fired, but nothing she kill'd, At length the young farmer came into the field ; And to discourse with him it M'as her intent, With her dog and her gun to meet him she went. I thought you had been at the wedding, she cried, To wait on the squire and give him his bride ; No, sir, said the farmer, if the truth I may tell, I'll not give her away, for I love her too well." Stippose the lady should grant you her love, You know that the squire your rival will prove ; 1^0 THE SPORTSMAN'S ^Vhy, then, says the farmer, I'll take sword in hand. By honour I'll gain her whene'er she command. It pleased the lady to find him so bold. She gave him a glove that was flower'd with gold, And told him she found it when coming along. As she was a hunting with lier dog and her gun. This lady went home, with a heart full of love. And gave out a notice that she'd lost a glove : And the man who had found it, and brought it to she, The man that did bring it her husband should be. The farmer was pleas'd when he lieard the news, With heart full of joy to the lady he goes : Dear, honoured lady, I've picked up your glove. And hope you'll be pleased to grant me your love. It's already granted, I will be your bride, I love the sweet breath of a farmer, she cried ; I'll be mistress of my dairy, and milking my cow, While my jolly brisk farmer is whistling at plough. And when she was married she told of the fun. How she hunted the farmer with her dog and her gun. But now I've got him so fast in my snare, I'll enjoy him for ever, I vow and declare. In circling eddies whirl'd the tide ; The wily angler sate The willow-shaded bank beside. And spread the treach'rous bait : VOCAL CABINET. HI Reclining long in careless mood The floating quill he ey'd, When, rising from the opening flood, A lovely maid he spied. She sweetly sung, and sweetly said. As gaz'd the \vond'ring swain. Why thus, with murd'rous art invade. My placid, harmless reign ? Ah, didst thou know, how blest, how free The finny myriads stray, Thou'dst long to dive the limpid sea And live as blest as tliey ! The sun, and the fair queen of night, Oft to the waves repair, And thence, with streaming lustre bright. Return more fresh and fair. Adrair'st thou yon ethereal space, Beting'd with liquid blue ! And tempts thee not my pictur'd face. To bathe in worlds of dew ? The tide in stronger eddies flow'd. It reach'd his trembling feet, The fisherman impatient glow'd The promis'd joys to meet. Sweet sung the soft and smiling fair ; Alas ! ill-fated swain ! Beneath the waves, he sank with her. And ne'er was seen again. 172 THE SPORTSMAN'S Come, bustle up, the morn is fair. Come, sportsmen, up, and taste the air, And from your beds away ; For Morpheus, now, his place resigns, Aurora bright, refulgent shines. And ushers in the day. Leave, leave your drowsy beds, my boys. And seek the gallant huntsman's joys, The pleasures of the chase ; The chase, which animates and cheers, And gives us courage, health, and years, To live and die in peace. The cockney, in his easy chair, May damn the hunting, hounds, and hare. The country and its charms ; But while they revel day and night. The huntsmen sing with glad delight. And banish all alarms. And when fatigued they home return. When flushed with wine they eager burn. And bless the jovial day ; Then Dian's sons in clamour rise. Their chorus echoes to the skies, " Hark forward ! hark away !" Let sportsmen delight in the joys of the field, No mirth in their sports I can see ; The deatli of a hare ev'ry transport can yield. That my fair one imparts unto me. VOCAL CABINET. 173 Then, tell ine ye lovers of sports so divine. Since we botli of a pleasure partake. Which agrees best with nature, your pastime or mine ? I win, while you make a heart ache. You fix all your pleasure in death's fatal darts. And with numbers the victim pursue ; I press on with ardour, to one gentle heart, With happiness ever in view. Love's shafts, tho' embitter'd by anguish perplex. Yet with fond expectation delight ; But you torture the forest, and wonderful, vex At the life of a wretch sav'd by flight. If man, lordly man, made to traverse the field, 'Tis vict'ry o'er foes that true honour will yield, To conquest and honour lays claim, And point out the passage to fame ; But you, arm'd at all points, like a hero repair. To frighten the covey hard by : How the champion exults in the death of a hare. Or looks sad if by chance he should fly. Then love's softer passion my senses engage. Nor let me such slaughter pursue, 'Till my time is near spun, when o'ertaken by age, I'll tell of the transports I knew. No remembrance shall ruffle, I'll calmly resign, No remorse shall my anguish increase ; Universal humanity still be it thine. To conduct to the mansion of peace. ^ 174 THE SPORTSMAN'S Come, my good fellows, and quit the bower, The sun no longer seems to lower : Your arrows bring, your bows of yew. With silver tips and silken clue ; And let the lusty bugle-horn Tell of the death of deer forlorn, With fatal note resounding ; What tho' he be swift and bounding, The horn, the horn, the lusty horn, vShall tell the death of deer forlorn. Cease, cease that raven note, that ringing Of sorrow in mine ears ; there is g-one forth a voice Sweet as the lark's to heaven's gate upspringing. Which says, rejoice, ye fox-hunters, rejoice ! She sun of Saltram has dispelled that gloom Which darken" d Cann AVood with a cloud of sadness ; The flower of fox-hunting therein shall bloom, And spread its violet-smelling scent of gladness ! The sun of Saltram shines forth in his glory ! The red fox he shall laugh, the vixen grin. And keepers now, their hands no longer gory. Shall look with pleasure on the bloodless gin. And I, the ancient one, ere long shall see The hope of Saltram, strong and quick in youth. First in the ranks of glorious chivalry. Where ride the sons of fox-hunting and truth ! VOCAL CABINET. 175 Oh ! I'll reform ! I will, I swear ! To Hymen I'll address my vows, And I'll beget a son and heir. And tend my sheep and milk my cows, And dose and fatten with my spouse ! And ril grow fond of simple nature, Free from vain arts and dull grimaces, And doat upon each flatten'd feature. Of rural love's athletic graces, With mottled arms and cherub faces. And now the rustic's toil I'll share. And wield the fork and trail the rake ; Now at the sermon sit and stare, "Till dull observers shall mistake, And fancy I am broad awake. And I will taste the sportsman's joys ; With hounds and guns pursue my prey; And find such raptures in a noise. That all the wond'ring 'squires shall say, I am as wise and bless' d as they. Then to the festive hall I'll pass. And in the jovial chorus join ; And sick'ning o'er th' unfinished glass, I'll swear our pleasures are divine. When dullness is improv'd by wine. 176 THE SPORTSMAN'S Yes, ril reform ! vain world, adieu ! Henceforth, with rural joys content, A life of reason I'll pursue ; Of all my former sins repent, And die a cuckold and a saint. To the M'ords that I sing, my good brother, attend. They're the precepts of Nimrod, our founder and friend ; Who, to civilize mortals, this order gave birtli, Which is fraught with the joys of health, friendship, and mirth. Obey the Grand Buck, who presides in the chair. And pay off your quit-rent, at least once a year ; So you, in due time, his successor may be. While thus you fulfil our gi'eat founder's decree. To the deputies, rangers, and foresters too, A proper respect is most certainly due : Unanimity, industry, freedom, they prize. In hunting they're great, and in council they're wise. By the rangers, a lesson most useful you'll gain. That will teach you how wealth you may surely obtain : Join freedom with innocence, wisdom Avith mirth. These mark us the happiest mortals on earth. Adhere to our cliarter, our history, and laws. And support, like a Buck, our most excellent cause ; VOCAL CABINET. 177 Abide by the motto our foresters wear, Tis the strength of our lodge, and 'tis well worth your care. But what naost ennobles our order, you'll find. Is a heart that's benevolent, gen'rous, and kind ; "Tis the characteristic to which we aspire, And each bosom inflames with the true social fire. The admiring world, with astonishment struck, Shall envy the blessings enjoyed by each Buck ; While bards shall, in future, record our great name. And our deeds be enroll'd in the annals of fame. Come ! wake to the chase, boys, and don your array. With joy let us herald the morn ! Let the life-blood of sporting quick lead us away, To that music of music — " Hark forward, away !"' And the notes of the maddening horn ! At the covert, in heart-throbbing silence, we pray, For the magical words, " she is found !" In glowing dilirium our pulses soon play. For hark to old Cooper's " view-halloo away!" " Away '" says the echoing sound. Alive to the signal, breast-high fly the hounds. Disdaining to stoop to their prey ; Each high-mettled steed at the crash onward bounds. All nature seems changed M'ith the soul-thrilling sounds. Yoicks! forward! hark forward! away!" 178 THE SPORTSMAN'S On, on speed the pack, as they ne"er sped before. To the cry of " hark forward, a^vay 1 For, ' bone, blood, and bottom,' had long given o'er. In homage to Conock condition ' at score,'. When " who-whoop !" brought a close to the day. Far in the distant east Sol sheds his ray. And faintly by degrees brings on the day ; While thro' the valleys sounds the sprightly horn. And jolly huntsmen rise to hail the morn. For while they pant for the chase, Health glows in each face, JMirth joins in the jovial career, Up the hill, o'er the plain, While they egerly strain. Each sportsman's a stranger to fear. ^Vhat sweets nature yields, Thro' the woodlands and fields. When the season for hunting invites ; Tho' the ball and the play. May be splendidly gay, Tliey match not with sportsmen's delia^hts. The midnight parade To the grand masquerade, Will banish the bloom of the face ; • But the hunters are seen. Undisturbed with spleen. And gather fresh bloom from the chase. VOCAL CABINET. 1"9 Then rise in the morn, At the sound of the horn, And health M'ith rich pastime pursue ; For sweet is the sound, Of the stanch mettled hound, And charming the prospect in A'iew. Ye who thirst for sport and fun. To the Denes make haste and run ; Yarmouth races meet you there — Yarmouth fun is good and rare : There you'll find the hooths alive ; Landlords in your pockets dive : Drinking, singing, roaring, dancing. Farmers' horses round you prancing ; Pretty girls, with smiling faces, Welcome you to Yarmouth races. Bustle, bustle, round you hies ; Pleasure fills ten thousand eyes ; Clouds of sand obscure the day ; For the coaches now make Avay. See the ladies how they smile ; Bless them, how they do beguile ! Parasols and veils are flying ; VFounded 'squires are almost dying; Tountry Johns with awkward faces Make you laugh at Yarmouth races. Piemen, showmen, ups and downs, Nuts and oranges for clowns, 180 THE SPORTSMAN'S Oysters fine, and ginger nuts, Lobsters smoking from the pots. All so rare and well displayed. Find a quick and roaring trade. Now the gig away is flying. Ladies shrieking, old wives crying, Bakers' stalls, witli all their graces, Are upset at Yarmouth races. Soon the glorious work begins, Bets are laid — who wins ? who wins ? There they go, and here they come, (So the cradle and the tomb,) All are eager for a sight ; Young and old the sport delight : Doctors, lawyers, 'squires, and tailors, Cobblers, farmers, lasses, sailors, Joy appears in all their faces, Fun they love, and Yarmouth races. See commencing now a heat. Quick their nimble footsteps beat. Not more rapid is the flash. Than the racers onward dash. List, and hear ! their whips they crack. Fierce they spur, and fierce they smack ! Sportsmen feel not what the horses Suffer, while they fill their purses. Bravo ! cry ten thousand faces. Sports, my boys, at Yarmouth races. VOCAL CABINET. 181 Jockeys, sportsmen, sharps, and flats. Raise their voice, and wave their hats ; Landlords swim in floods of gin, Gamesters shout — I win ! I M'in ! Black-ey'd Poll, and blue-ey'd Sue, Swear and rave, 'tis true ! 'tis true ! Twenty pounds the bet you laid, sir, 'Tis won— and down it shall be paid, sir. Lost, the gamblers make wry faces. Curse their stars, and Yarmouth races Hark ! the donkeys now are starting, Just a going— see ! they're parting. Donkeys run, and asses bray Halloo! halloo! huzza! huzza! All is wild confusion now ; Drunkards fight — a mighty row ! The donkeys out of breath are gaping ; See, the boys their sides are flapping. Rosy cheeks and pretty faces, You will see at Yarmouth races. When the day has lost its fire. Coaches, waggons, horses, retire, Booths with singing rend the air, Jolly Bacchus, thou art there ; Venus glad the task performs. Points to beauty's endless charms ; See her daughters most bewitching ; But the muse, that none disgraces, Bids good night to Yarmouth races. 182 THE SPORTSMAN'S When morn peep'd o'er the mountain's height, Wak'd by the distant echoing horn, And yelping hounds whose nimble flight, Like Pegasus, skim'd o'er the lawn, I mounted Dapper for the chase, All eager for to follow, Where Towler, foremost in the race, Yelp'd to the huntsman's halloo. ; Then away to the sound, Of the musical hound. With hark forward ! hark forward ! tantivy. The chase it was a glorious one, For none of us e'er seem'd to lag ; But onward kept till setting sun, When we triumphant kill'd the stag : Tho' many a Avinding he pursued. Young Towler close did follow. O'er brook and brake the game he view'd, Pleas'd with the huntsman's halloo, Then how sweet was the sound. Of the musical hound. With hark forward ! hark forward ! tantivy. Return'd, our pleasures we recount, And speak with raptures o'er the bowl. For joys like ours none can surmount, Since rosy health inspires the soul ; Then sweet we slumber 'till the morn, Awakes us for to follow Again the distant echoing horn, And huntsman's iovial halloo : VOCAL CABINET, 183 Then away to the sound, Of the musical hound, With hark forward ! hark forward ! tantivy. Happy is a country life, Free from noise and free from strife ; Where gentle zephyrs pleasing blow. And crystal streams that purling flow. And purling streams that warbling flow. And crystal streams that purling flow. The meadows, and fields, and trees look green. And every tiling looks quite serene. And the huntsmen are out on an autumn morn. How sweet is the sound of the echoing horn. The echoing horn, the echoing horn, echoing horn, How sweet is the sound of the echoing horn. O'er hills, woods, and plains to "the vallies they run. And the hounds in full cry, ton, ton, non, ton, ton. Thus we pass the long day with our innocent sport. And returning at night to the bottle resort : What life is so happy, what mortals so free, And who lives so happy and jovial as we. RECITATIVE, —ACCOMPANIED, From Latmos' mount, whence sacred groves depend, Diana, and her virgin train descend ; And while the buskin'd maids with active care, The bus'ness of the daily chase prepare, 1S4 THE SPORTSMAN'S With joy the goddess views her shining throng, And thus exulting swells the jovial song. AIR. Jolly health springs aloft, at the loud sounding horn. Unlocked from soft slumbers" embrace ; And joy sings a hymn to salute the sweet morn. That smiles on the nymphs of the chase. The rage of fell Cupid no bosom prophanes. No rancour disturbs our delight. All the day with fresh vigour we sweep o'er the plains. And sleep with contentment all night. On yon fair brook's enamell'd side, Behold my Chloe stands, Her angle trembles o'er the tide, As conscious of her hands. Calm as the gentle waves appear. Her thoughts serenely flow, Calm as the softly breathing air. That curls the brook below. Such charms her sparkling eyes disclose. With such soft power endu'd. She seems a new-born Venus, rose From the transparent flood. From each green bank, and mossy cave, The scaly race repair, They sport beneath the crystal wave. And kiss her image there. VOCAL CABINET. 185 Here the bright silver eel enroUd, In shining volumes lies ; There basks the carp bedropp'd with gold, In the sunshine of her eyes. With hungry pikes in wanton play. The timorous trouts appear : "^ The hungry pikes forget to prey, The timorous trouts to fear. With equal haste the thoughtless crew, To the fair tempter fly. Nor grieve they, whilst her eyes they view, That by her hand they die. Thus I too view'd the nj-mph of late ; Ah, simple fish, beware ! Soon will you find my wretched fate, And struggle in the snare. But, fair one, though these toils succeed. Of conquest be not vain : Nor think o'er all the scaly breed. Unpunished thus to reign. Remember, in a wat'ry glass, His charms Narcissus spied. When for his own bewitching face. The youth despair'd and died. No more then harmless fish insnare, No more such wiles pursue ; Lest, whilst you baits for them prepare. Love finds out one for you. r2 1S6 THE SPORTSMAN'S My Pegasus dull, has the honour and pride To acknowledge your elements bright : And first, though you hint that I took the wrong side, The end of the race prov'd it right.* * This curious event was announced in the following man- ner : — " A match for 500gs. and 1000 bye, four miles, between Col. Thornton''s Vingarilloand Mr. Flint's Thornville, by Volun- teer, out of Abigail ; Mrs. T. to ride her weight against Mr. Flint's." The race was run at York, Saturday, August 25th, 1804 ; and was thus described in the columns of the York Herald :— " Never did we witness such an assemblage of people as were drawn together on the above occasion — 100,000 at least. Nearly ten times the number appeared on Knavesmire than did on the day when Bay Malton ran, or when Eclipse went over the course, leaving the two best horses of the day a mile and a half behind. Indeed expectation was raised to the highest pitch, from the novelty of the match. Thousands from every part of the sur- rounding country thronged to the ground. In order to keep the course as clear as possible, several additional people were em- ployed ; and, much to the credit of the 6th Light Dragoons, a party of them also were on the ground on horseback, for the like purpose, and which, unquestionably, was the cause of many lives being saved. " About four o'clock, Mrs. Thornton appeared on the ground, full of spirit, her horse led by Colonel Thornton, and followed by Mr. Baker and Mr. H. Boynton ; afterwards appeared Mr. Flint. They started a little past four o'clock. The lady took the lead for upwards of three miles, in a most capital style. Her horse, however, had much the shorter stroke of the two. When within a mile of being home, Mr. Flint pushed forward, and got the lead, which he kept. Mrs. Thornton used every exertion ; but finding it impossible to win the race, she drew up, in a sports- manlike style, when within about two distances. " At starting 5 and 6 to 4 on the lady; until the fourth mile, 7 to 4 and 2 to 1 in her favour. In running the last mile, the odds were in favour of Mr. Flint. VOCAL CABINET. 1S7 In courtesy, next, you are pleas'd to suggest. That I was deficient on starting ; But to give you the lead was clearly a test, How civil I was at the parting. " Never surely did a woman ride in better style. It was dif- ficult to say whether her horsemamhip, her dress, or her beauty, were most admired — the tout ensemble was unique. " Mrs- Thornton's dress was a leopard -coloured body, with blue sleeves, the rest buff, and blue cap. Mr. Flint rode in white. The race was run in nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds. " Thus ended the most interesting race ever ran upon Knaves- mire. No words can express the disappointment felt at the defeat of Mrs. Thornton. The spirit she displayed, and the good humour with which she has borne her loss, have greatly dimi- nished the joy of many of the winners. From the very superior style in which she performed her exercising gallop of four miles on Wednesday, betting was greatly in her favour ; for the accident which happened, in consequence of her saddle-girths having slackened, and the saddle turning round, was not attended with the slightest injury to her person, nor did it in the least damp her courage; while her horsemanship and close-seated riding asto- nished the beholders, and inspired a general confidence in her suc- cess. "Not less than 200,000L were pending upon Mrs. Thornton's match ; perhaps more, if we include the bets in every part of the country, and there is no part, we believe, in which there were not some." Not at all dispirited by defeat, Mrs. Thornton publicly cha lenged her antagonist to ride the same match in the following ye<. his horse Thomville against any one of three that she should brin^ and he might select, and which should be hunted by her through the season. In August, 1805, Mrs. Thornton received farfeit from Mr. Bromford, who had betted Col. Thornton four hogsheads of coti roti, 2000gs. h. ft. and 600gs. pp. with Mrs. Thornton, to ride against the lady (Mrs. T.) over the course at York. The Colonel selected Clausum Fregit, by Otho, for Mrs. Thornton. After- wards, a match was made in which Mrs, Thornton was to ride two miles against frank Buckle. Upon this occasion, she was habited 18S THE SPORTSMAN'S I denied you a friend to ride by, 1 confess, And for why ? — not for sake of the pelf; But I wish'd to enjoy, in a case of such bliss, All that pleasure and honour myself. Four-fifths of the race, you must candidly own. You had the " whip hand," while behind I humbly pursued, till your nag " was broke dovvn"- Then before you to go, sure, was kind ! But, believe, to the fair I am warmly inclin'd — To be always polite 1 am ready : Tho' my horse was so rude as to leave you behind, I will ne'er run away from a lady. To your challenge anew, I beg to reply — When yout ladyship's made ev'ry bet, I'll be proud to attend, the contest to try. For the honour again of your wit. RECITATIVE. Now, from the busy scenes of noisy trade. The sportsman flies to meet the peaceful shade. Cheer" d by the downy cushions of repose, Well fitted for the sport, alert he goes, in a purple cap and waistcoat, long nanlieen skirts, purple shoes, and embroidered stockings : she rode Lousia, by Pegasus, out of Nelly. Buckle rode Allegro, by Pegasus, out of AUegranti's dam. Mrs. Thornton carried 9st. 61bs. Buckle, 13st. 61bs. Mrs. Thornton maintained the lead for some time ; Buckle then passed her, which he kept only for a few lengths, when Mrs. Thornton, with the greatest skill and judgment, pushed forward, and won the race by half a neck. VOCAL CABINET. 189 To kiss the virgin harbinger of morn, AVhere the clear dew-drop decks the sloe-dress'd thorn ; With buskin'd feet retreads the stubble glades. Or where the game birds seek autumnal shades ; The while liis dogs curve round, with nimble joint, Inhale the grateful scent, and make the point ; "Till when unbroke, the quiv"ring covey flies, To yield his levell'd tube, the annual prize. The gladden'd hills return the loud report. And evTy care is buried in the sport ; Then, as he bears his polish"d piece along, Thus o'er the wilds he trills the season's song. AIR. Go, plod away life, you to Mammon inclined. Go, trouble, malign, and make sport of mankind ; Lie, flatter, and fawn, where there's interest in view. The game you are ever inclin'd to pursue : Of sport, nobler far, the blithe sportsman shall sing. Now October returns us the game on the wing. How charming, to start with the bright opening' sky, 'VVliile the lark greets the ear, and the landscape the eye ; To single the bird from the covey we meet. And reload, with the delicate spoil at our feet ! No pastime can equal, though fram'd by a king, AVhile October returns us the game on the wing. Gainst the sportsman, we know the pert fribble will league. Say, he travels thro" dirt, and bows down to fatigue ; 190 THE SPORTSMAN'S Far better his lot, oft to tire with his sport, Than to toil for ingratitude, bred in a court. Our pleasures are pure, and ne'er harbour a sting. While October returns us the game on the wing. On the skill of her sportsmen, Britannia shall smile, When war blows the blast, and awakens the isle ; The foe that presumes to set foot on our shore, Shall be check'd by his gun, and insult us no more. From the fribble no conduct like this shall e'er spring. While October returns us the game on the wing. With the prime of her roses, health dresses the cheek, Sweet peace is our hand-maid and innocence meek ; While health, and blest quiet, but seldom we find, With the dull-plodding triflers, who traffic behind. Thus blest with our pastime, enraptur'd we sing. While October returns us the game on the wing. Disgusted with meanness, the churl we despise, To our friends we convey, what the season supplies ; Tho' pleasures attend on our rational drift, Far more felicity springs from a gift. What conduct surpasses, ye moralists sing, While October returns us the game on the wing. Hence may plods, churls, and fribbles, and all who're inclined To rail at our sport, and make sport of mankind, Ne'er feel in the breast what our pastime bestows. Nor wear the fresh circle, health twines for our brows. O'er the spoils of the gun may they ne'er sit to sing, While October returns us the game on the wing. VOCAL CABINET. CHORUS. Fly, fly, sickly indolence, fly from a court, Remantle the cheek, and be blest with our sport So your life, as it flits with the moments away. Shall be blest with repose, and ease your decay. 191 Let sons of sloth dream time away. Regardless what may follow. And rail at us who wake the day With horn, and hound, and halloo : We their pursuits should find the same, To their secrets were we privy ; Each man to hunt some fav"rite game Through life goes on tantivy. TTie book-worm hunts the ancient schools. And walks with Aristotle ; Black-legs and ladies hunt for fools, The toper hunts the bottle. Thus should we find, whate'er the name. To their secrets were we privy. Mankind to hunt some favVite game. Through life goes on tantivy. When doctors come in at the death, — For true-bred hunters these are, — Tlie patient cries, with his last breath, ' Et iu. Brute f then falls Caesar.' Thus we with safety might proclaim, To their secrets were we privy, Mankind to hunt some fav'rite game. Through life goes on tantivy. 192 THE SPORTSMAN'S The misanthrope hunts out for woes, Muck-worms are gold pursuing, While neck-or-nothing, as he goes, The spendthrift hunts his ruin. Thus should we find, whate'er the name. To their secrets were we privy. Mankind to hunt some fav'rite game. Through life goes on tantivy. Bold tars for honour hunt the wind, Outrageous saints hunt sinners ; While with round belly, capon-lin'd. Fat aldermen hunt dinners. Thus should we find men"s views the same, To their secrets were we privy. All, all to hunt some fav'rite game. Through life go on tantivy. Fame, courtiers hunt from place to place. Rakes hunt now sets of features ; While gen'rous hearts urge on the chase. To relieve their fellow creatures. Let us, while to our actions' aim Regardless who are privy. In chase of pleasure, as fair game. Through life go on tantivy. Ye Lancashire lads at whose liberal board, A stranger thus seated feels prou d as a lord ; Accept for this bounty a strain void of art : Which rough tho' it sound, flows from gratitude's heart, Derry down. VOCAL CABINET. 193 Cer the world's widest circle should fate make hiin rove, Still mem'ry will tell him how friendship here strove To welcome him still in the old English style, And bid him enjoy hospitality's smile. Derry down. That smile once remember'd will smooth ev'ry care, Which absence might otherwise mark M'ith despair : For freedom and mirth prove sincerity's dart Was shot all around from the string of the heart. Derry down. When Fame sounds her bugle, and loudly proclaims, High in archery's list, most respectable names. They're the Lancashire lads, full of frolick and fun, Whose shafts hit the mark like a rifleman's gun. Derry down. When my muse, by comparison, beauty would paint ; A Venus or Helen to me appear faint : No goddess of Greece could a charm boast so rich, As the magical smile of a Lancashire witch. Derry down. At parting, accept, too, this honest bequest, Of the good-will I ever shall bear you a test : 'Tis the wish of my heart, and hereafter I'll boast How I bumper it now as a favourite toast. Derry down. THE WISH. May loyalty's sign mark the county ye live in. May happiness mark the sweet witches you're giving ! 194 THE SPORTSMAN'S May Apollo liere smile on each good bowman's greeting. And gild o"er with liarmony each merry meeting. Derrv down. My grandfather's grandfather, valiant and stout, A Briton, ere luxury imported the gout, In the field, in the ball-room, or scanip'ring o'er rocks, Could give chase to the foe, or the fair, or the fox : A band of choice friends, at the sound of his horn, . Sallied forth, blithe and buxom, to hail the fair morn : All lusty and noble, and true and tried men. And call'd, for distinction, the Lads of the Glen. Shall I tell you their names ? There was bold Alfred Howe, Sprung from Guy, Earl of Warwick, who hunted a cow ; And then, on his courser, came valiant Sir Hugh, Bom from that London 'prentice, two lions that slew : Next, that there devil, Hengist, with target and gorge. Worn, his ancestors write, by the mighty St. George ; Then Owen ap Rice, who again, and again. Had been in at the death with the Lads of the Glen. Next Percy came on, born of that noble race WTio accomplished such wonders at fam'd Chevy Chase; Then Orson the jolly, a bold daring elf. Sprung from Arthur, nay, some say, from Nimrod him- self: Edwin, Glanville, and Huntingdon, sound men and good. The last, the great grandson of bold Robin Hood : To these add my ancestors, making just ten, And you'll get the whole list of the Lads of the Glen. VOCAL CABINET. 195 ■"Rs writ in fair characters, now in the hall, What a chase they were led the sly fox to enthral ! He ran 'em at length, and then hard at a pusli — And now they're miles from him, and now at his brush : 'Till the hounds are so weary that, panting for breath. They o'ertake him, but cannot accomplish his death ; Britons spare prostrate foes, so they loos'd him again. To afford future sport for the Lads of the Glen. Thus rational pleasure was all their delight, They'd hunt in the morning, and revel at night ; Fair truth and pure honour dwelt proud in each breast. And kind hospitality set up her rest : And from their gay board never yet was the day. When the poor and the hungry went empty away ; Britons all haAC true hearts ; yet 'tis hard to say when We shall e'er see the like of the Lads of the Glen. Then charge high your bumpers, in chorus loud sing. Like true subjects let's all drink a health to the king ; He's a sportsman himself; and long may the chase Give him health to behold his illustrious race : And would ye, ye Britons, your honour ensure As firm as your courage, your rectitude pure, His virtues but emulate, soon shall again, Return tlite good times of the Lads of the Glen. When the huntsmen awake us vrith shrill sounding horns. And Aurora the welkin with spangles adorns ; The pale moon and the stars that dare shine best by night. Hide their fires at the approach of the father of light ; 196 THE SPORTSMAN'S The stanch hounds o'er the fields eager seek for the trail. And once found they pursue it along the deep vale ; Then the hare, that lies snug, close concealed in her form. Hears their cries, and awakes in a tremble at th' alarm. CHORUS. For the sport of the chase, sure, all jileasures surpass. As the blessings of health and long life it ensures ; And at night with the fair one he loves — and the glass. Care, witli all its attendants, the sportsman abjures- Now the huntsman espies her, slow creeping along, And so-ho loudly joins to the hounds' cheerful song ; In their noses no longer the pack will confide, But rush forward all eyes to the object espied ; When behold they lose sight and stop short in the chase, They seem lewd of their fault, and trudge back in disgrace : Then old Ringwood, who never his tongue had belied, Once more sets her in view ; the rest follow their guide. For the sports of the chase, &c. To repair his first fault each hound now slowly goes, And neglecting his eyes, trusts alone to his nose ; Thus the hare at full speed runs a distance a-head. And has time to play pranks, the stanch pack to mislead ; But old Ringwood once more renders vain all her arts. And his tongue goes so loud as enlivens our hearts : Now poor puss, with fatigue and with terror opprest. Shrieks, expires, and in death finds a haven of rest. For the sports of the chase, &e. Now the plentiful viands are rang'd on the board. The broad chine, chequered rump, and savory surloin. VOCAL CABINET. 197 With such other good meats as the Britons alone. Find conducive to strengthen the heart and the bone. Then to George and his queen, and their oflFspring, we fill The full bumper ; resolv'd that our loyalty still Shall untainted remain to the end of our lives ; Then to bed we repair, and prove true to our wives. For the sports of the chase, &c. Old Sagittarius, stuck in the sky, To serve as a watchman as well as a spy, On finding our archers excel those above. In envious spite gallopp'd off to tell Jove : " Great king of the gods, can you bear to look down, " And see your great favourites of old so outdone ? " No more will your Trojans and Grecians please, " When eclips'd by the feats of these ' Lads of the Tees. Jove rose in a rage, and call'd out for Apollo, And entreated that he would old Fourlegs follow. And examine if what he'd reported was true ; Then away to the banks of the Tees the god flew : It happened the arrow was shot for that day. When the archers appeared in their nicest array ; Their sports and their mirth did his godship so please, He resolved to stop with the ' Lads of the Tees.' Next morning, old Jupiter sent out his scout. Winged Hermes, to know what Apol was about ; Who, swift as an eagle, headlong dashed forth. To inquire why the god staid so long upon earth : s 2 198 THE SPORTSMAN'S Oh I I've found, cried Apollo, some lads to my mind. They're gentle, they're courteous, they're social, and kind . They shoot like us gods, and their songs me so please, 111 never more quit these brave ' Lads of the Tees.' ; With the god of the bow and of music so near. Triumphant our course, for no rival we fear ; With so splendid a model of grace and of art. Emulation alone do we need on our part. Now let us avoid all vain squabbles and strife, And our science will gild the dull evening of life : And hoary old age feel a glow when he sees His sons are enroUd "mongst the ' Lads of the Tees.' The morn was peeping thro the east, And saffron tingd the sky ; Anxious I started fi'om ray rest, Tho' check'd by Celia's sigh. " Ah, why forsake thy Celias arms, " ^Miy her embraces leave ; " Rouse not the partridge with alarms, " Nor doom her mate to grieve !" Cease, cease, my love, these useless tears, Soon, soon shall 1 return ; Remember from the sea uprears Her head Septembers morn. ' Then quick the dogs unkennel, John, And saddle quick the mare ; See how, impatient to be gfone, They snuff the morning air ! VOCAL CABINET. 199 How thro' the stubble, blithe they bound, No need of whip or noise ; Hej% Ranger, quarter well your ground, Now, Archer, hey, my boys! Steady ! take heed, my dog — Toho ! His attitude how fine ! Where is another bosom now So highly blest as mine ? The whirring covey wing their flight, Adown the breeze they go ; Destruction flies from left and right. And swift a brace lie low. My well trained dogs my sign obey. And haste their lord to meet ; And lowly crouching, down they lay My victims at my feet. Nor e'er again inclined to roam. Refuse to hear, " Down charge !" Till gun fresh cock"d, and charge ramm'd home, I cast them off at large. Thus fiird with pleasure rolls the hour. Each vale, each hill, I try ; Indifferent or to sun or show'r. Till night pervades the sky. Returning home, what joys await, To pay my morning toil ; There beauty meets me at the gate, And cheers me with a smile. 200 THE SPORTSMAN'S Oh ! who can tell the rapturous bliss, When safe from dreaded harms. With which my Celia seals lier kiss. And twines me in her arms. How could I e'er forsake the couch, To seek the winged prey ; Where joys we find in every touch. Which melt themselves away. To a fair lovely huntress, devoted's my song. Who was train'd to the chase, like Diana, when young! Instead of town pleasures, Or music's soft measures ; So fond she became of the huntsman's glad sounds, That her voice hail'd the morn. Sweet in tune with the horn, Yet she pitied the hare while she follow'd the hounds. Our huntress so boldly would ride, that no fear Of a hedge, ditch, or stile, could stop her career : O'er all she went dashing. Thro' thick and thin splashing. As echo the huntsman's view halloo resounds ; When her voice hail'd the morn, Sweet in tune with the horn. Yet she pitied the hare, while she follow'd the hounds. One day, on a fault, as the hounds had trail' d back, Our huntress so fam'd, close attended the pack, VOCAL CABINET. 201 When puss she spied panting, All trembling and fainting — To save the poor hare from her saddle she bounds : On the fair smiFd the morn ; To her praise sung the horn, ^^'ho savd the poor hare, tho' she followed tlie hounds. A\vaken"d by the sprightly horn, My wife complains "tis )et too soon ; And swears the glimmerings of the morn Is but th' inflection of the moon. To ease her mind and gain her leave. The cheerful hounds to follow, I make her gentle bosom heave. With whoop, my boys, hark ! halloo. With gentle murmurs, now she cries. Arise, my love, pursue the chase ; Then gently turns and shuts her eyes. Contentment smiling on her face. Soon drest, I mount my vig'rous steed, Tlie cheerful hounds to follow ; AVhilst every sportsman gives his meed. With whoop, my boys, hark : halloo. The thicket, where the stag awaits Th' arrival of the deep tougu'd hounds. We enter ; each his posture sits — The gloomy wood with shouts resounds. 202 THE SPORTSMAN'S When lo ! the stag bounds off amain, The cheerful hounds we follow ; And all our throats at once we strain, With whoop, my boys, hark! halloo. Thro' woods and o'er the meads he flies, Still watchful of his foes behind ; Oft sidelong casts his languid eyes. To see where shelter he may find. But vain to 'scape his efforts prove. The cheerful hounds still follow ; And echo sounds from ev'ry grove. Come whoop, my boys, hark ! halloo. At length, the genius of the flood He courts, to save him from his foes ; Within the waves he cools his blood. And soon forgets his former woes. But short, alas ! his transports are. The cheerful hounds still follow ; Whilst joyful sportsmen rend the air, With whoop, my boys, hark, halloo. Confiding now no more in flight, With antlers bent he braves the hounds ; And long maintains th' unequal fight. Whilst every wood with shouts resounds. Along his face the big round tears Each other piteous follow ; No sportsman now his fellow cheers. With whoop, my boys, hark! halloo. VOCAL CABINET, 203 At length, in pitj- of liis moans, The huntsman loads his deadly gun ; Quick ends his panting, sighs, and groans ; Then strips him, and the sport is done. Back to the rendezvous we fly. The wearied hounds all follow ; And o"er the sparkling Burgundy, We whoop, my boys, and halloo. AcT.tON, who fell by the daughter of Jove, Diana, the queen of the chase. If he'd woo'd the cold maid with the caution of love. Had revelFd in beauty's embrace ! For women, sweet creatures, tho" blushing and coy. Still own a soft gen'rous flame I And man must the cunning of Cupid employ. When woman, dear woman's, the game. With a chevy ! hark forward, tantivy. Yet think not the ruin of virtue I boast. Or passion's wild dictates pursue : No ! honour ! bright honour's the creed of my toast. And marriage the temple in view. For women, &c. &c. Then sportsmen, whose joys are the charms of the fair. Believe me, when love is the field. The nymph must be started with caution and care. And the young timid virgin will jield. For women, &c. &c. 204 THE SPORTSMAN'S Hail to Friendship ! Hail to Mirth ! Hail to thee, who gave them birth ! Hail, great Niinrod ! po\v"r divine! Hunters' patron, god of wine ! Thee we sing, in jovial lays, We thy godlike actions praise ; Hail to thee, thou pow'r divine ! Jolly Bacchus, * god of wine ! AIR. Masons praise thee for the art ; + Which thou didst to them impart : DUETTO. Bucks admire thy wondrous skill, In the chase o'er dale and hill. TRIO. While, for deeds illustrious, we Celebrate the deity. Let the genial bowl go round. And the lofty roofs rebound. AIR. Ere this noble art J thou taught. With life's choicest blessing fraught. Chaos kept his gloomy court. Sordid dulness banish' d sport : * Or Bar Chus, the son of Chus. t The art here spoken of is the method of conversing with- out speaking, and of knowing a mason from another man, by signs and tokens only. * The art of hunting. VOCAL CABINET. 205 AIR. Soon as thou the vintage* prest, Mortals were supremely blest ; Friendship, mirth, and jolly song, Did their happy days prolong. AIR. Sound the mighty hunter's praise. Bring the laurels, trophies raise ; Join, ye Bucks, advance his fame. And immortalize his name. CHORUS. Strike again the trembling lyre. While our voices swell the choir : Let us celebrate his birth, With festivity and mirth. O'er Sundorn's rugged tower, we fear uo tempest's lour; Nothing there can hurt us, or foe assail ; This roof to enter, no enemy dare venture, Nor rash intruder these walls can scale. CHORUS. Bless our noble master, keep him from disaster. Twang, twang, a dillo, dillo, dillo, dee. t Nimrod is here celebrated for bringing the vintage to per- fection. The Egyptians paid him divine honour, as the god of wine, and called him Osiris. And it may not be improperly said, that he presided over the vines, as he was the first king of Ba- bylon, the metropolis of Assyria, where, as the ancients assert, the most excellent wines were produced — the Nectar supposed to be drank by the gods. T 206 THE SPORTSMAN'S As dawns the beam of morning, wind and weather scorn- ing, The sportsmen all are anxious for hunting to prepare ; With hound and horn so cheerly, and sport we love most dearly, We pass our time so merrily from year to year. Bless, &c. &c. When the chase is oA'er, here we find good cover. O'er our heads a shelter from wind, rain, and hail ; Meat and drink in plenty, the coppers seldom empty. And when they are, they're filled again with good ale. Then bless, &c. &c. Then here's God's blessing on him, keep all evil from him ; May we always serve him with a hearty good will ; Should his fortune ever leave him, 'tis our duty still to cleave t' him. And shew him that in poverty he's dear to us still. Bless our noble, &c. &c. For we liear that the ravens were by God fed from the heavens ; So likewise he feeds us, and may he do so still ; May he protect the Corbets, as Deus pascit Corvos ;* And we'll drink to his health with a hearty good will. Bless our noble, &c. &c. * Mr. Corbet's motto. VOCAL CABINET. 207 Huntsman, rejoice, Lift up thy voice, And sing my Lord Morley's praises ; Foxes are found, On the Saltram ground. And the cry of the hound. Jolly boys ! how my spirit it raises ! Tally-ho! tally-ho! Yonder they go. The 'squire caps 'em on like a good 'un ; The scarlets are quite mad. Even trowser'd men are glad ! So come, my merry lad. Give me a nag that's a blood 'un. For blood is all the go ; Nothing now will do. Except where high breed abounds, sir ; I must have Velocipede, Or some such generous steed, Of tip-top racing speed — Our hounds are fast as greyhounds, sir! The lads are riding fast. The devil catch the last— There's one who flies like a swallow : He is often stone weight, He tops a five-bar gate ; 'Fore George he will ride straight. And cheer on the hounds with his halloo ! 208 THE SPORTSMAN'S See yon eighty-fift. Just giA'es his mare a lift, And slap a Devil's dyke she's over ; He is a powerful boy, So maidens give him joy — That bliss without alloy — And he will give you a lover. See yon steady chap, I pray that no mishap Will stay his hunting- career, sirs ; That youth must needs live well. For he fears not witch nor spell, And copes blind ditch and dell. Bayard sans reproche et sans peur, sirs. Thus, you see, my lord, What joy you afford. To a set of right generous fellows : Now may each vulpeeide. Who shall my song deride. In Norfolk ever bide, Or die like a dog of the yellows. When, the very first day, to the field I had got, I discovered great natural parts at a shot : My spaniel had put up a snipe from a bog ; I miss'd it, I own, but I brought down my dog. Down, derry down. VOCAL CABINET. 209 So keen, my first hunt, I brush'd over the grounds, I decidedly distanc'd the fox and the hounds : And I leap'd my first hedge, with so earnest a mind. That I left the fine gelding, I rode on, behind. Down, derry down. But time and experience have render'd me cool, And I counsel young sportsmen to think of this rule. When you go out a shooting, don"t shoot your dog' dead. And in riding a horse, don't fly over his head. Down, derry down. Rouse, rouse, my Bucks, and hail the day. See Phoebus gilds the skies ; And to the field now take your way. And bid shrill echo rise. For a hunting we will go, well go, well go. To cover, hoic, the huntsman cries. And boldly rides along ; The village clowns the horns surprise, Who run to see the throng. When a hunting we do go, &c. When reynard's found, what joys abound. And cheer each hunter's face ; When hark to halloo, echos round. And we pursue the chase. When a hunting, &c. 210 THE SPORTSMAN'S Ho, tally-ho, resounds afar, While we sweep o'er the plain ; Danger shall ne'er our sport debar. Or fear a hunter pain. When a hunting, &c. A noble burst, cries him up first, While rapture heaves his breast : To his cunning, renny now must trust. He's fairly done liis best. And a hunting, &c. He's cross'd that yard, good sir, hold hard, . And give the hounds the way ; There's on him, hoic, what can retard. Hark on him, hark away. AV'hen a hunting, &c. His speed it fails, what craft avails ? He yields his panting breath ; Who-hoop, the distant ear assails, Whoo-hoop, pronounces death. And a hunting, &c. When Eldon* was young, as we've heard him declare. He mounted the hills to enjoy the fresh air ; * A declaration made by the Lord Chancellor in the House of Peers, when the question was debated respecting the making game a legal article of sale in our public markets. VOCAL CABINET. 211 While Phcebus was rising to make the world gay. His lordship was present to hail the new day. With pointers well train'd, to the stubbles he"d run. And furnish'd him sport with the dogs and the gun. The covey once up, while their fleet wing's were heard, He singled his mark, and he brought down his bird. Like a true skilful sportsman he scorn"d to do more, Than the lessons his fathers had taught him before : How chang'd is the mode with our sportsmen of late, 'Tis noon when emerged from their cushions of state. When Phcebus has pass'd the meridian line. And instructed the drudge and the ploughman to dine. Then away, out of breath, (not to mount the green hill) But to follow new sport by fam'd Battersea mill. Where the game birds no longer attention engage. But a number of pigeons confin'd in a cag'e. There the marksmen arrang'd like city train'd bands. Stand ready to pop, or to frighten the swans. WTien each hero has slaughtered his score in a trice. He returns to the bottle, or else to the dice, In hope the rich spoils of the tables to share. Where thousands are ruin'd, or drove to despair. E'en such are call'd sportsmen, I blush at the name. Who slaughter the tame bird instead of the game : Could our forefathers rise from their quiet retreat. And these pigeon-shooters at Battersea meet. They'd shake their grey locks, and, in sorrowful strain, Wish with all speed to be buried again. 212 THE SPORTSMAN'S Then, come, brother sportsmen, join chorus with me, And wish pigeon-shooters their folly may see. And return to the health-giving sports of the field. Where rational pleasures are always reveal'd : And save the poor dove-cot to garnish the farm. And the Battersea gardners from constant alarm. 'Tis the horn's shrilly sound that calls us away, 'Tis the huntsman's sweet halloo I hear ; With hounds so delighted, with horses so gay. In what spirits do sportsmen appear ! Whilst thro' the thick covert see how the pack dash ! And what courage ! what ardour ! they show— There's a challenge, I swear,* and hark, what a crash ! They have found— there he goes, tally-ho ! For the Roothings they're gone, and if the scent lies, There's no country on earth that's so good ; And believe me, you'll find before the fox dies. He will prove your nag's bottom and blood. See Solomon flies to the head of the pack; Look ! how Bustler and Caroline go- Now Saladin leads them ; and if you ride slack. You will ne'er hear the next tally-ho ! What tumult ! what joy ! what delight in the chase, Ev'ry hound strains his sinews to lead : Each horseman resolves ev'ry danger to face, And each horse is contending for speed. * At the words thus marked — Cry yoicks, yoicks — ad libitum. VOCAL CABINET. 213 They now go apace— what a burst have they had ! But they stoop— see their noses are low ; How well they all hunt, yet the scent is so bad. We shall ne'er again cry, tally-ho ! Now, sportsmen, beware, and don't cross o'er the grounds. There's a check, they have headed the fox ; Hold hard, till the Colonel hast cast his crack hounds. Or you'll find you are in the wrong box. But Tamerlane feathers,* and Roundelay flings, Like an arrow that's shot from a bow ; And Streamer gives tong-ue — now the welkin loud rings. There's a halloo again— tally-ho I Now, now, then once more give your horses the rein. Hark forward, my boys, get along ; Look, look at the hounds, how they race o'er the plain. Who says, that the leaps are too strong ? No fence upon eartli can the Essex Hunt stop. See yonder, like lightning they go ! There I the fox runs in view— the hounds the hedge top, They have kill'd him— who-hoop, tally-ho ! The sporting train, with joy begin To hail the rising morn, And foxwold echoes to the din. Of huntsman, hound, and horn. With voice of fire, in eager haste, Fitz-Arthur cheer'd his pack, How swift, how gallantly he past. Sublime on Nimrod's neck. 214 THE SPORTSMAN'S Long, long, had Nimrod borne his lord, The foremost in the chase ; And many a sigh of anguish pour'd. While others shar'd his place. And now with more than usual speed, With more than usual fire. He skimm'd each hill, each dale, and mead. He clear'd each thorny briar. Still forward, still as reynard fled, Fitz- Arthur foremost came. While many a panting hunter bled. Along the field of fame. And, hark! the huntsman's louder peal Proclaims the sport is o'er ; Oh! luckless sport ! oh! fatal zeal! For Nimrod lives no more. The breeze that heard the peal of death. That heard the game expire, Tliat breeze receiv'd the last, last breath Of Nimrod's dying fire. " O say," he cried, " ere yet thy horse The debt of nature pays. Say, have 1 ran a duteous course, To gain Fitz- Arthur's praise?" *' Oh ! thou hast done a hunter's part. Far, far beyond thy race ; The pride, the glory of my heart. My honour in the chase. VOCAL CABINET. 215 " Long, Nimrod, long thy sorrowing lord Shall rue the hickless day. That cost a life so much ador'd, That cost my gallant grey. " No other horse shall serve thy place, No other joys be sought ; Henceforth, adieu, to ev'ry chase. Adieu to ev'ry sport." When the forehead of Phoebus illumines the east. And the lark hails the birth of the morn, I shake off the mantle thafs woven by rest. And obey the rebuke of the horn. Then the chase, the blithe chase, gives a zest to the day,"'' And thought sinks immers'd in the loud hark ! hark, away ! How mad are mankind, thus to brood over ill. Whose hearts were for happiness made : When the hunter's sweet note gives the cue to his will, And echo repeats what is said. Then hither, ye wretched, be blissful, be gay. And swell the blithe chorus, of hark! hark, away ! Of old. lovely Dian, with buskin and spear. Brush' d the glittering dew from the plain ; For the sport of celestials could never compare. With the transports of Dy and her train. Then who'd give to Morpheus one moment of day, When the horn glads the senses, with hark .' hark, away ! 216 THE SPORTSMAN'S Tho' Diogenes liv'd as the tyrant of mirth, To the good of humanity blind ; Had he follOwM the chase, not a doubt of men's birth Would have enter'd his cynical mind : For if care cross our path, not a being will stay. But drown his vile mandates, with hark ! hark, away ! Now Robin lend to me thy bow, Sweet Robin lend to me thy bow. For I must now a hunting with my lady goe, With my sweet lady goe. And whither wilt thy lady goe ? Sweet Wilkin tell to mee ; And thou shalt have my hawke, my hound, and eke my bow. To wait on thy lady. My lady will to Uppingham,* To Uppingham forsooth will she ; And I myself appointed for to be the man To wait on my lady. Adieu, good Wilkin, all beshrewde, Thy hunting nothing pleaseth mee ; But yet beware thy babbling hounds stray not abroad. For angring of thy lady. * A market town in Rutlandshire. This was a very popular song in the early part of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. VOCAL CABINET. 217 My houuds shall be led in the line. So well I can assure it thee ; Unlesse by view of straine some pursue I may finde, To please my sweet lady. With that the lady shee came in. And wiird them all for to agree ; For honest hunting never was accounted sinne, Nor never shall for mee. Have you been to Ealing, sir, heigh, sir, ho, sir ? Have you been to Ealing, sir, ho ? O yes, I have been, sir ; Great feats I have seen, sir. With flints and percussion guns, blow. How style you that sporting band, heigh, sir, ho, sir ? How style you that sporting band, ho ? If fame be no liar, Those men of quick fire, By name of the O. H. C, go. Have they been united long, heigh, sir, ho, sir? Have they been united long, oh ? If the time I must fix. It is years forty-six. As their records most clearly do shew. 21S THE SPORTSMAN'S And grant they no honours, sir, heigh, sir, ho, sir ? And grant they no green ribands, ho ? O yes, I've been told, A bright medal of gold. On best shot they yearly bestow. And who's their great Captain, sir, heigh, sir, ho, sir ? And who's their great Captain, sir, ho ? From gay Brighton's shore. To pluck one laurel more. Came forth the triumphant hero. Where did he this mighty deed, heigh, sir, ho, sir ? Where did he this mighty deed, ho ? In Cheam's verdant mead. The all-conquering Stead,* Gave percussion a flint and steel blowt Can you ascertain to me, heigh, sir, ho, sir ? Can you ascertain to me, ho ? If the new standing charge, J Or a bore small or large, || Gave these luckless pigeons death's blow ? And have they no code of laws, heigh, sir, ho, sir ? And have they no code of laws, lio ? Yes, by rules they are bound, Ere the bird quits the ground. The gun, under arm, to hold low. * Name of the winner of the medal, 1822. t The medal was won with a gun on the old flint principle. X One and three-quarter ounces of shot. II Three-quarter inch bore. VOCAL CABINET. 2J9 Is this not a knotty point, heigh, sir, ho, sir ? Is this not a knotty point, ho ? As no bird can they count. Should they but of gun mount 'Bove level of line of elbow. Has this club any Father, sir, heigh, sir, ho, sir ? Has this club any Father, sir, ho ? Tho' we can't prove the fact, By the new marriage act, The medal he fathered we know.* And has it no President, heigh, sir, ho, sir ? And has it no President, ho ? Yes, one who's their boast. And with joy often toast. In bumpers of gen'rous Bourdeaux. Then fill high the purple juice, heigh, sir, ho, sir ? Then fill high the purple juice, ho! Let us pledge our lov'd Chair,t With whom none can compare. And let the full bumper flow ! When Aurora appears, by Phcebus' rays brightened. Gives 'semblance of flame to the regions of air ; When the eyes of a damsel by Venus enlightened. Encourage the youth in pursuit of the fair. * John Crunden, Esq. to whom the medal owes its origin, t Thomas Harrington, Esq. of Hamilton House, Brighton. 220 THE SPORTSMAN'S Then love and Diana will ever require A bosom of energy, spirits, and fire ; For the chase mocks the sluggard who scarce greets tlie field : And tlie nymph slowly followed, as slowly M'ill yield. Who makes the best speed has the best of the day ; Then gallop on gaily, hark forward, huzza? Ye fox-hunters, stag, aye, and hare-hunters, too. Whose aim is to rub oflf the furrows of care. Like Nimrods the fieet-footed brusher pursue, And taste of the sweets of the morn-breathing air I Come hither, come hither, at jollity's call, And join in the revels at Fox-Hunters' Hall ! To friendship, true friendship, the toast shall go round. To love, and the pleasure derived from the chase ; F^or while love and friendship in union is found, AVhat bliss can of hunting, fox-hunting, take place ? Then hither, come hither, at jollity's call, And join in the revels at Fox-Hunters' Hall ! The breeze of the morn, like the lip-kiss of love. Invites us to hail it as something divine '. While the sound of the horn, like a harp from above. Awakens a joy for which thousands repine. Then hither, come hither, at jollity's call, And join in the revels at Fox-Hunters" Hall. VOCAL CABINET. 221 What's life without love ? and whafs gold without healtli? A phantom! a fly-trap, or dream at the best; While health, love, and friendship, are treasures of wealth. And those that possess them with paradise blest ! Tlien hither, come hither, at joUitj-'s call, And join in the revels at Fox-Hunters' Hall. To the field, to the field, brother sportsman, repair,' And banish dull slumber away ; Tlie hounds are all out, and have started the hare. While echo resounds to the lay. Sweetly sounds the blithe horn thro" each coppice and grove, As cheerly the hunters" pursue. Then let us proceed to the sports that we love, Health and pleasure is what we've in view. Should sly reynard appear, as we pass o'er the plain, Strait his course we will follow apace. His turning and winding will prove all in vain. For boldly we"ll follow the chase. Over mountain and rocks, with speed he may fly. Our hounds shall as eager pursue : Then huzza, my brave boys, let the sound reach the sky, Health and pleasure is all we've in view. Let the hart fly before us, the chase we'll maintain, In spite of his strength or his speed. We'll bound o'er the hedges, or skim o'er the plain, And till we o'ertake him proceed. V 2 222 THE SPORTSMAN'S There is nothing to balk us, no fear shall invade, While thus we've the object in view : From the prospect around us, around us display'd, Health and pleasure 'tis plain we pursue. Thus in chasing the fox, or the hart, or the hare, Or whatever starts in our way, Of sport each is certain to have a full share. Then loudly let's cry out huzza. Huzza then at night, to the bowl straight we fly, Each fribble and fopling we scorn ; Sweet sleep shall befriend us on bed when we lie, And we wake to fresh sport in the morn. What cursed luck is mine,* With hounds so stout and fine. To suffer this horrible frost ; Come, Jack, and help swear, My patience cannot bear To think what half crowns we have lost. My pack that look'd so well. Is now as black as hell — I fairly could sit down and cry : 'Tis caused by the snow — My master says, not so ; But he lays all the blame upon I. * Written, during a hard frost, by a celebrated huntsman. VOCAL CABINET. 223 The sun shines out so clear, No signs of frost appear — But all a hard winter portend ; The cats and terriers sneeze. The pails and gutters freeze, The horses' shining coats stand on end. Of drink and food debarr'd, Tlie crows infest the yard, When thirsty, the shyest are bold ; My courage to retain, I strive, alas! in vain — E'en the gin it is tasteless and cold. O ! what a dismal sight, The meads all cloth' d in white, And snow cover'd wide o'er the ground : The smoke upright ascends. With rime the cover bends. And loudly our footsteps resound. The Blues so brisk of late. Are now in piteous state. No art can their sorrows beguile ; E'en our new married squire Sits moping o'er the fire. For beauty attracts not a smile. A dab at ev'ry fun, The captain loads his gun. And rarely he misses a shot ; So when he comes to the chase He takes the foremost place — Thro" him many pounds have I got. 224 THE SPORTSMAN'S But, 'midst this load of grief. One thing might bring relief, And lighten the heart sore oppressed ; O ! could he get a boy, Then it would give me joy. And lull all my troubles to rest. Cast down is our divine, For well may he repine, But few M'inters more can he brave ; Yet M'hen the old boy dies. In hopes he soon may rise, " Hark forward !" we'll mark o'er his grave.' But ere my rhymes are done. Sec, clouds obscure the sun. The wind hurries round to the west ; A gentle mizzling rain Begins to soothe my pain. And dissipate the care in my breast. Our pockets soon shall fill. For this rings reynard's knell. And pleasure, long banish'd, renews ; Come, then, Jack, push your glass. Here's to your fav'rite lass. And health and good sport to the Blues. When, with spurs, boots, and breeches, in apple-pie trim. With his coat lappets flying, and figure so slim ; At IVkhnerpool Cover, my hero had started, He soon from a capital fencer departed. VOCAL CABINET. 225 As tlie horse made no blunder, Slack, Shirley, and Goose, Think his reins were " too long, and his seat was too loose." In want of a subject, I am quite at a stand ; It is true half our subjects have left this good land ; But I think that such eye which is looking askance, Says, then follow our subjects, and welcome from France. Since old Milton is voted too far from the south. And her townsfolk dejected are down in the mouth, I will take your advice, but pray don't me abuse. If I choose for my subject, Toulon and Toulouse. Where's our haven of Milton, the pride and the boast. The first at a song, and the best at a toast ? At Paris, alas ! they do him abuse. Vote his song is too long, and his toast is too loose. Where's Worcester, who sported cossacks of blue. The delight of the ladies, because they were new? At Paris, alas ! they did them abuse, And voted them far both too long and too loose. In the Bois de Boulogne, Rawsthorne now joins the chase. Now vainly expecting to go the best pace ; Cursing horses and riders, does nought but abuse, Votes their stirrups too loug, and their seat too loose. But enough of such stuff, let us hunt on to cards, Leave the toast then for tea, and the song for the bards ; If I make a mistake, pray don't me abuse. For I've sat liere too long, and am certain to lose. 226 THE SPORTSMAN'S Arise, ye sons of sloth, arise, Let the sweet horn unloose your eyes ; And join the jovial chase, In triumph sounding o'er the plain ; Attend tlie jolly huntsman's strain. Health blushing in each face. See reynard flies across the plain, And would the distant copse attain, To hide him from the foe ; But still in vain, the op'ning hounds Pursue him in his mazy rounds, Hark forward ! there they go. O'er hedge and ditch, o'er hill and dale, He thinks his speed can never fail ; Yet 'tis in vain he tries ; Swift at his heels the well tried pack, Invade at last sly reynard's back. While horns resound, he dies. Thus sung our ancestors of old. In many a hearty song, we're told, Heroic great and free ; From exercises of the field, They taught the subtle foe to yield, And guarded liberty. VOCAL CABINET. 227 As blithe as the linnet sings in the green woods. So blithe, so blithe, we'll wake the morn, So blithe, so blithe, &c. And through the wide forest of merry Sherwood, We'll wind, we'll wind, the bugle horn — We'll wind, the bugle horn. The sheriff attempts to take bold Robin Hood, Bold Robin, bold Robin disdains to fly. Bold Robin, bold Robin, &c. Let him come when he will, we'll in merry Sherwood, Or vanquish, vanquish, boys, or die — We'll vanquish, &c. Our hearts they are stout, and our bows they are good. And well, and Avell their master know, And well, and well, &c. They are cull'd in the forest of merry Sherwood, And ne'er, and ne'er will spare a foe, And ne'er, &c Our arrows shall drink of the fallow deer's blood, Well hunt them, we'll hunt them all over the plain. We'll hunt them, &c. And thro' the wide forest of merry Sherwood, No shaft, no shaft shall fly in vain — No shaft, &c. Brave Scarlet and John, who were never subdu'd , Gave each his hand, his hand so bold, Gave each his hand, &c. 228 THE SPORTSMAN'S We'll range thro' tlie forest of merry Sherwood, What say, what say, my hearts of gold — What say, &c. Anxious by the gliding stream, See the steady angler watch. Trying every wily scheme. The heedless finny tribe to catch. Hush ! hush ! not a breath ! I've a nibble— still as death! Strike, strike, play it, play it ! Sure its a weed ; zounds ! 'tis a weed! And when we get it to the shore. We clear our line, and try once more ; So we fish from morn till night, And then we get — get what ! a bite. Oh, the joys — oh, the joys. The joys, the joys of angling ; The joys, the joys of angling! The joys, the joys of angling! Now the drizzling rains descend. Then the shelt'ring trees we court ; Still our watchful looks we bend. Rain and clouds insure us sport. Hush! hush! I've a bite! We shall have rare sport to-night '. Play it, play it ; strike, strike ! How it tugs— 'tis a pike ! VOCAL CABINET. 229 He weakens, now we get it to the shore, He snaps our line, we are baulk'd once more ; Then home we go, the tale is told, That we have caught — caught what ? a cold. Oh, the joys— oh, the joys, The joys, the joys of angling, The joys, the joys of angling, The joys, the joys of angling. Begin the song, ye mirthful crew. To Nimrod's praise your strains renew ; While clustering grapes our temples crown, And nectar all our sorrows drown ; Let instruments assist our lays, While we our jolly founder praise. CHORUS. Proclaim, O ye Bucks, our great patron divine. And offer the grape's sparkling juice at his shrine. AIR. Let harmony and wine inspire Gay mirth, and friendship's social fire ; With tuneful voice and sprightly string, Let each melodious brother sing His merry ballad, catch, or glee. To hail great Nimrod's jubilee. CHORUS. Proclaim, O ye Bucks, our great patron divine. And otfer the grape's sparkling juice at his shrine. AIR. Hail, rosy god! immortal pow'r! The guardian of each blithesome hour ! 230 THE SPORTSMAN'S 'Till thou* first gave th' empurpl'd bowl, To cheer the languid hunter's soul, And crown with revelry the day, Triumphant discord bore the sway. CHORUS. Proclaim, O ye Bucks, our great patron divine, And offer the grape's sparkling juice at his shrine. AIR. Again resume the festive song. The chorus join, ye jovial throng ; The rights of Bacchus still pursue. And give the jocund god his due ; Our annual tribute thus we'll pay, While mirth and friendship crown the day. CHORUS. Proclaim, O ye Bucks, our great patron diviue. And offer the grape's sparkling juice at his shrine. 1 SING of a medal, bright medal of gold. The pride and delight of each marksman enroll'd. In the Hat Club at Highbury-barn ; A patriarch's head, by time silver'd o'er. This glory of gold was the first to explore. Now, this glittering trophy with ease is not gain'd. But like Waterloo-days, must by blood be attain'd. At the Hat Club at Highbury-barn. * It is recorded, in the Bucks' history, that Nimrod having one day led the people a more than ordinary chase, they became over fatigued ; and, in order to relieve them, he gave them a taste of his most excellent wine, which they had no sooner touched, than their spirits became exhilarated ; forgetting their toil, they spent the evening in mirth and jollity. VOCAL CABINET. 231 By nature prolific, productive of fun, The pigeons our mark with the^tliundering gun. At the Hat Club at Highbury-barn. To pigeons a pastime, and, what's a strange thing, There's a genus of pigeons M'ithout any wing ; Nou-descripts of this nature have sometimes been seen; But sucli rarse aves have never yet been At the Hat Club at Highbury-barn. At contests medallic, in five circling years, Twice the palm by the commoners, thrice by the peers. At the Hat Club at Highbury-barn, Was won in high style, and 'tis clear as the sun. That by optics as clear it could only be done. For of twice thirty shots, by one hand nobly aim'd. To have levell'd their bird, fifty-two were proclaim'd. At the Hat Club at Highbury-barn. The golden Pescennius and copper Otho, Are medals much priz'd, but the Crunden's the go, At the Hat Club at Highbury-barn. For time's sacred rust, at some far distant day, The learn' d antiquary his lore will display. On this golden record : — when ages are past. Will promulgate the fame of crack shots ne'er surpassed. At the Hat Club at Highbury-barn. Of sixty discharges, whoe'er kills the most. Much envied, first reaches the gold winning post. At the Hat Club at Highbury-barn. Neck and neck have four members their speed boldly tried ; But three of the jockies rode rather too wide : 232 THE SPORTSMAN'S More fiivour'd by fortune than skilFd in the gun, The faithful Recorder this hard race has won, At the Hat Club at Highbury-barn. Come, Albert, come, the sunbeams bright Already gild St. Gothard's height ; The savage Avolf M'e chase to day, O'er Alpine mountains for away ; Soon, soon, his forfeit head we'll gain. And bear in joy to Uri's plain ; Then, Albert, haste, uo more delay. The sun-beams on St. Gothard play. Hark ! from the woods and glens around, Their horns the early huntsmen sound. Gaily the slipp'ry paths they tread, Tho' threatening cliffs o'ertop their head. To wild St. Gothard's steeps they hie, Ere the sun gains the noontide sky; Then, Albert, haste, no more delay. The huntsmen's bugles call away. AVhen ev'ning comes with joyful beam. We'll hail the moon illumin'd stream ; Well hail the stars, whose friendly light Conducts us, 'midst the dews of night, To where the hamlet's cheerful glow Gleams on the pale and crusted snow ; Then, Albert, haste, no more delay. The sun-beams on St, Gothard play. VOCAL CABINET. 233 Morning dawns, Aurora blushes ; Hark, the lark's enliv'ning strain ! Starry dew-drops gem the bushes ; Transport beams o'er hill and plain I Softly sweet our voices blending. Hail we now the new-born day ! Higher now the notes ascending, Echo swells our votive lay ! See, in glory bright appearing, Phoebus sheds his golden beams ! Ev'ry heart their influence cheering. Glowing on the eastern streams ! Nature smiles, her charms renewing, Hark, I hear the hunter's horn ! In cover deep, the game pursuing, Op'ning hounds salute the morn I Aurora's blush the east adorns. Now quit, my friends, the genial bed ; For if no beast appears with horns. At least the antlers grace your head. The game which you have been pursuing. Yields, alas ! to your disgrace ; For in its turn 'tis your undoing. Your brows adorning for the chase. CHORUS. Tally ho ! my boys, the horns for ever. Hey tally, ho tally, ho tally-ho; And, in their planting, may we never Wound the buck and kill the doe. X 2 234 THE SPORTSMAN'S 'Tis true, you ai'e an ardent lover, Coursing game that comes in view ; So having sported in the cover. She in turn rehuts at you. Then come, my friends, the bugle sounding, Bids ye mount devoid of care ; And may each thro' the green wood bounding. Challenge soon a horned deer. Tally-ho, &c. Hark, hark, the shrill view halloo greets us, Cheer, my lads, we're in good luck ; Ne'er heed how oft the doe defeats us, So we this day kill a buck. The horned beast knows no deceit. His antlers always are in view ; Act;eou scorn'd a base retreat, Then boldly shew your trophies too. Tally-ho, &c. Hark ! hark to the notes of the melodious Freuch-horn, How sweetly she calls you out in the morn. She tells you John is mounted on Tartar his steed. And invites you all to the cover with speed* CHORUS. Of all pleasures or pastimes, ever heard or seen. There's none in the world like to merry hunting. Hark ! cover, hark ! the hounds are all in. The fox they have found, and to his kennel they fling ; VOCAL CABINET. 235 He's forced now through the woods for to fly, Tho' nothing can save him between earth and sky. Of all pleasures, &c. Hark ! tally, hark ! out of cover they all break. And tell you the fox they ever will seek ; They surely will run him until that he die, Unless some kind earth save him in his way. Of all pleasures, &c. The fox, now panting, sees he must die. The hounds, with their ring^joys, resound to the sky ; There's Stately and Empress, the earth scarce touch with their feet. There's Chacer and Trimmer altogether as fleet. Of all pleasures, &c. Triumph and Diver now push to head the whole pack. Whipster being stole, his place for to take ; I think such rascally treatment as these Should be reproach'd by all those who seek for to please. Of all pleasures, &c. Bold reynard now finding his speed will not do. Betakes to the woods, the hounds may not him pursue ; But the hounds, as at first, to the cover they fly. And swear old reynard in the field of honour shall die. V Of all pleasures, &c. There's Trimbush and Chirrup, and others as good. Rally, Cleanly, and Comfort, drive on thro' the wood ; Emperor and Conqueror will never him forsake. But drive on, full speed, thro' every brake. Of all pleasures, &c. 236 THE SPORTSMAN'S Old reynaid, finding the cover cant save him, Lurks on for the earth that us"d to preserve him ; But Smiler he sees him, and soon overtake. And poor reynard his exit in the field of honour doth make. Of all pleasures, &c. The hounds how eager to enjoy their reward. The huntsman as eager, checks them with a word ; He beheads old reynard, and takes off his brush. And to the hounds gives his carcass a toss. Of all pleasures, &c. The hounds now, well pleas'd, wallow on the ground, The huntsman as well, to see his company around ; He buckles reynard"s head to his saddle with a strap. And with a riband ties his brush to his cap. Of all pleasures, &c. Our sport being ended, and our horses full jaded, We return home well pleased, with our sport quite amazed. Saying, was there ever such hounds as these. Or ever such hunting at Hadham Lees. Of all pleasures,'&c. Gay companions of the bower, AV'here inshrined Apollo reigns ; Cherish long the social hour. That recalls us to these plains ; VOCAL CABINET. '237 ^Vhere unbending Cares, and blending Honest pastime, dance, and song. Ever the golden round extending, Smoothly fly the hours along. O'er the heath in mellow winding. Hark ! how clear the bugles ring ; Ev'ry bowman now reminding Sportive morn is on the wing. Come, unbending Cares, and blending Honest pastime, dance, and song. Ever the golden round extending, Smoothly fly the hours along. Twang the bow with lusty sinew, Firm and steady to the last ; Let each shaft its flight continue, In defiance of the blast. Thus unbending Cares, and blending Honest pastime, dance, and song. Ever the golden round extending. Smoothly fly the hours along. View those lovely forms, all glowing Bright, and vested like their queen : Wood nymphs, who the prize bestowing. Make the contest still more keen. 238 THE SPORTSMAN" S Thus unbending Cares, and blending Honest pastime, dance, and son?. Ever the golden round extending, Smoothly fly the hours along. See them grace the victor's merit. With the golden badge of fame ; Tis a bowman's pride to wear it, While the arrow bears his name. Still unbending. Cares, and blending Honest pastime, dance, and song. Ever the golden round extending. Smoothly fly the hours along. Crown the goblet, freely quaffing. Let the purple nectar flow ; Bacchus enters, fills, and, laughing. Toasts around his brother's bow. Tims unbending Cares, and blending Honest pastime, dance, and song, Ever the golden round extending, Smoothly fly the hours along. Hark ! hark ! 1 hear the hunter's horn ! Glad echo hails the sound I The merry hounds salute the morn ; Hill, wood, and dale rebound ! VOCAL CABINET. 239 Behold, the sounding chase appears ! Their uproar swells the lay ! The youths on coursers, fleet as deers, The huntsman sounds away ! Hark away — hark away! &c. &c. The jolly huntsman winds his horn. And echo sounds away ! Now scouring o'er the bushy ground, A brook strays through the bent ; Confus'd, and snuffling, wildly round, Tlie hounds have lost the scent ; But I'eynard's cunning all is vain, His art the huntsman spies ; The bank he takes; then backward plies; Then bounds a field again ! Hark away — hark away I Now through cov'ring broom he sweeps ; Now skulks through thickest shade ; From bramble-bush now slily creeps, Now scuds along the glade ! Beneath a slant now earths his head ; Then flies with winged feet ; Now doubles, now reserves his speed — Winds ofi" with sly deceit. Hark away— hark away ! The cunning huntsman cheers his pack ! AVhen thund'ring o'er the plain, The op'ning hounds now scent the track, Loud shout the hunter train ! 240 THE SPORTSMAN'S Now round and round the tangled brake Rush grooms, and squires, and boys ! Their poles they ply ; their stations take ; The plunging terrier joys ! Hark away — hark away ! Expell'd his hole, upstarts to sky, The villain glares around ! No\v here, now there, he bends to fly. Recoils from backward wound ; His frothy jaws, in foaming ire. He grinds with horrid sound ; . His burning eyes flash sparkling fire ; Hang on him many a liound ! Whoop ! we cry ; he yields his breath ; He welters on the sward ; Whoop ! we're in at reynard's death ; Whoop !— hold hard — hold hard ! Calm the winds, the distant ocean, Where our ships in triumph ride. Seems to own no other motion Than the ebb and flow of tide. High perch'd upon his fav'rite spray, The thrush attention hath bespoke ; The ploughman, plodding on his way. To listen, stops the sturdy yoke. VOCAL CABINET. 241 But see, the loud-tongu'd pack in view. The peopled hills the cry resound ; The sportsmen joining chorus, too. And rapt'rous peals of joy go round. Soon, soon again, the scene, so gay, In distant murmurs dies away. Again from lazy echo's cell, No sound is heard of mirth or woe, Save but the crazy tinkling bell The shepherd hangs upon the ewe. O George !* I've been, I'll tell you where. But first prepare yourself for raptures ; To paint this charming, heavenly fair ! And paint her well, would ask whole chapters. Fine creatures I've view'd, many a one, With lovely shapes, and angel faces ; But I have seen them all outdone By this sweet maid at Aylesbury races. Lords, commoners, alike she rules. Takes all who view her by surprise ; Makes e'en the wisest look like fools. Nay more, makes fox-hunters look wise. * This song was addressed to George Ellis, Esq., by hjs friend, Sir John More, Bart. This most accomplished and truly elegant poet died July 16th, 1780, aged twenty-four years ; the offspring of his muse will be admired as long as a taste for exquisite English poetry exists. Y 242 THE SPORTSMAN'S Her shape — "tis elegance and ease. Unspoiled by art, or modern dress. But gently tap'ring by degrees. And finely, " beautifully less !" Her foot — it was so wonderous small. So thin, so round, so slim, so ne.at. The buckle fairly hid it all, And seem'd to sink it with its weight. And just above the spangle shoe. Where many an eye did seem to glance. Sweetly retiring from the view. And seen by stealth, and seen by chance ; Two slender ankles peeping out. Stood like love's heralds, to declare, That all within the petticoat Was firm and full, " and round and fair." And M'hen she dances — better far Than heart can think, or tongue can tell. Not Heinel, Banti, or Guimar, E'er mov'd so graceful and so well. So easy glide her beauteous limbs. True as the echo to the sound ; She seems, as thro' the dance she skims. To tread on air and scorn the ground. And there is lightning in her eye. One glance alone might well inspire The clay cold breast of apathy. Or bid the frozen heai't catch fire. VOCAL CABINET. 243 And zephyr on lier lovely lips, Has spread his choicest, sweetest roses ; And there his heavenly nectar sips, And there in breathing sweets reposes. And there's such music when she speaks, You may believe me when I tell ye, I'd rather hear her than the squeaks. Or far-fam'd squalls of Gabrielli. And sparkling wit, and ready sense. In this fair form witli beauty vie ; But tingd with virgin diffidence. And the soft blush of modesty. Had I the treasures of the world — All the sun views, or the seas borrow, (Else may I to the devil be hurl'd) rd lay them at her feet to-morrow. But as we bards reap only bays. Nor much of that, tlio' nought grows on it, ril beat my brains to sound her praise. And hammer them into a sonnet. And if she deigns one charming smile. The blest reward of all my labours, ril never grudge my pains and toil, But pity the dull "squires, my neighbours. 244 THE SPORTSMAN'S Mr. Brande new laws may frame. For birds of every genus ; But poachers will pursue their game, On manor, e'en of Venus, CHORUS. Yankee doodle, doodle do, And yankee doodle dandy, &c. Our dove-cotes they are gone to rack, So many pigeon shooters ; Our beauties all with broken backs Bear amorous freebooters. Yankee doodle, &c. Free warren is fani'd Marybone, More game you can't desire ; The choice is left to you alone. All shooters love a flyer. Yankee doodle, &c. The Old Hats Club's a jolly set, Love pigeons more than partridge ; The shot by whom the club was beat Used neither flint nor cartridge. Yankee doodle, &c. Of heavy ordnance hear the roar. Of pond'rous detonator ; The pigeons dread the monstrous bore Of this great operator. Yankee doodle, &c. VOCAL CABINET. 245 With laurels deck the winning horse, And hail the glorious deed, sir ; A second race upon this course Is won by this fleet steed, sir. Yankee doodle, &c. Let bumpers o'er the g'oblets brim. With rosy wine peep laughing : Whilst, all inspired by mirth and whim, We pass the night in quaffing. Yankee doodle, &c. Hail, mighty hunter,* hail ! Long may thy art prevail ; And health, with rosy grace. Paint ev'ry hunter's face ; While with echoing hound and horn. We rouse the game, and wake the morn. RECITATIVE. Till godlike Nimrod graced th" Assyrian throne, To man the art of hunting was unknown ; But when he led them to the field and wood, Th' enliv'ning chase they eagerly pursu'd : Wild beasts no more prevail' d, wlien happy man Follow'd the mighty hunter's glorious plan ; And ven'son, by each Buck of taste ador'd, Deck'd every day the jovial huntsman's board. * Moses gave Nimrod the name of mighty hunter ; and the Greek worcl Zagrcus, by which Bacchus is styled, signifies the same. Y 2 246 THE SPORTSMAN'S AIR. Then let us each morning with Phoebus arise. And haste, to the woodlands away, 'I'o hail the bright god with the hounds cheerful cries, Like sportsmen true, jovial, and gay ; • Great Nimrod, our founder, so brave and so wise, With nervous speed follow" d the game ; Like him, my brave boys, let us hunt for the prize. Our reward is health, ven'son, and fame. The stag, when unharbourd, bounds over the plain, Or flies up the health-breathing hill ; True pleasure we feel shooting thro' ev"ry vein. While thus we're exerting our skill : Great Nimrod, our founder, so brave and so wise, AVith nervous speed followed the game ; Like him, my brave boys, let us hunt for the prize. Our reward is health, ven'son, and fame. The horn's mellow tone shall encourage the cry Of the hounds, while the stag pants for breath, Attempting in vain his pursuers to fl)'. And tamely submits to his death : Great Nimrod, our founder, so brave and so wise, With nervous speed f jllow'd the game ; Like him, my brave boys, let us hunt for the prize. Our reward is health, ven'son, and fame. RECITATIVE. Once more, I'll sound the illustrious hero's praise, And chant him in Anacreontic lays. Hail, jolly Bacchus ! by that name divine, We Bucks pay homage at thy purple shrine ; VOCAL CABINET. 247 The vintage* bled at thy all-powerful nod, And mortals thee confessed their sovereign god. AIR. To our founder, young and gay, We devote the jocund lay ; Fill the goblets to the brim. Pour libations due to him : He supplies our festive board With the choicest of his hoard ; While the maxims we pursue, Ven'son, claret, is our due. Crown'd with roses, drink and sing, Never fading ivy bring, Emblem of the youth divine, God of jollity and wine : We to him due honour pay. While we're merry, free, and gay, While his maxims we pursue, Ven'son, claret, is our due. Fill the goblets high again, Let the nectar flow amain ; To our jolly founder raise Songs of triumph, songs of praise : * For this, and many other useful inventions, such as archi- tecture, agriculture, commerce, navigation, hunting, and the re- ducing men into society and union, his son and successor, Ninus, erected a pedestrian statue to his memory, which the Babylonians deified, and called Baal or Bel. A. M. 2000. He was afterwards worshipped under various names, and declared a god by the joint suftVases of the world. 248 THE SPORTSMAN'S So shall Bacchus us befriend While we at his altar bend ; While his maxims we pursue, Veu'son, claret, is our due. Of all the recreations which Attend on human nature, There's none that's of so high a pitch, Or is of such a stature, As is the subtle augler's life, In all men's approbation ; For anglers' tricks do daily mix In every corporation. Whilst Eve and Adam liv'd in love, And had no cause for jangling, The devil did the waters move, The serpent went to angling : He baits his hook with God-like look ; Thought he, this will entangle lier ; By this ye all may plainly see, That the devil was first an angler. Physicians, lawyers, and divines. Are all most neat entanglers ; And he that looketh fine, will find That most of them are anglers : Whilst grave divines do fish for souls ; Physicians, like curmudgeons. They bait witli liealth ; we fish for wealth ; And lawyers fish for gudgeons. VOCAL CABINET. 249 Upon the Exchange, 'twixt twelve and one, Meets many a neat entangler ; 'JVIongst merchantmen, not one in ten, But what's a cunning angler : For, like the fishes in the brook. Brother doth swallow brother ; There's a golden bait hangs at the hook, And they fish for one another. A shopkeeper, I next prefer ; He's a formal man in black, sir; He throws his angle ev'ry where, And cries, what is't ye lack, sir ? Fine silks or stuffs, cravats or cuffs ; But if a courtier prove the entangler, My citizen must look to it then. Or the fish will catch the angler. But there's no such angling as a wench Stark naked in the water ; She'll make you leave both trout and tench. And throw yourself in after. Your hook and line she will confine, Thus tangled is the entangler ; And this, I fear, hath spoiled the gear Of many a jovial angler. But if you'll trowl for a scrivener's soul. Cast in a rich young gallant ; To take a courtier by the poll. Throw in a golden talent. 250 THE SPORTSMANS But yet, I fear, the draught will ne'er Compound for lialf the charge on't ; But if you'll catch the devil at stretch. You must bait him with a serjeant. l^hus I have made my angler's trade, To stand above defiance ; For, like the raathematic art. It runs thro' everj- science. If with my angling song I can. To mirth and pleasure seize you, I'll bait my hook with wit again. And angle still to please you. A SPORTSMAN I am, my delight's in tlie chase; To hedge, gate, and stile, I seldom give place. But gallop and halloo all day with the hounds. Pursuing sly reynard's eccentric rounds. AVhen the dogs make a fault. My hunter I halt, And take in a mouthful of breath : Jack, the huntsman, cries " hark !" Truman there hits the mark — We fly, and are in at the death. L'p tlie hills, down the vales, we gallop, we fly. O'er fallows, thro' mud lanes, we heavily hie ; We pant for sound footing, which, when we attain, We mount on the stirrup, and on the pacli gain. VOCAL CABINET. 2 51 As the villagers hear, Old and young quick appear. With hands over eyes they stand gaping ; Both men and hoj^s run, To partake of tlie fun ; Their lagging oft sets us a laughing. Old vulcan hears something, and starts from his anvil, His hammer up hrandish'd, his sleeves wave and dangle : He gives a sharp look, spies the fox on the ley — Not one moment longer old vulcan can stay. His hammer thrown down, His apron tuck'd round His full helly, he halloos like Stentor ; The iron red hot On the anvil's forgot, And at a short chase he will venture. The dogs hear his voice, they desire no more, 'Tis not many days since they heard it before ; Like lightning they pass him in musical cry ; He eyes them, he cheers them, and says with a sigh. Dear creatures, run, run. For my chase is done ; He cries, and stops, puffing his bellows ; But his ears and his ej'es, 'Tend the pack and its cries 'Till lost, with us buckish gay fellows. O'er hill and thro' dale M-e pursue tlie sly thief. His cunning, nor speed, can now yield him relief: 252 THE SPORTSMAN'S We keep to the track of his scent-giving heels, And soon put a stop to the life-moving wheels. Then leisurely home, ]Men, horses, dogs, come ; The smoke from the kitchen we see with delight ; ^Ve eat, drink, and sing, "Till Ave make the house ring ; All cares and dull thinking we banish that nig'ht. Up, up, in the morn. To the sound of the horn : On every hedge now lie the morning's beams ; Why should dull sleep. O'er our eye-lids creep, And our fancies exsult but in withering dreams ? Oh, slumber ne'er shed O'er her fav'rite's bed, A sight half so sweet as before us now lies — The Day-God on high, The sweet breeze blowing by. These, these, are the joys that we love and we prize. Oh, who that e'er flew Through the silvery dew. To follow the hare on his first sporting day. But exulted, when old. When the story was told, Tho' years since that moment had wander'd away. VOCAL CABINET. 253 But what jojvs can he, Led by memory, see In his pilgrimage past, who for ever hath lain In slumber's dull arms, While morn's holiest charms For him were unfolding and wooing in vain. Then, sportsmen, away, While breaketli the ray. And the dew-drop each flower and wild hedge adorn. No longer delay ; But — tantivy! — huzza! And bid the woods echo the sound of the horn. The day fix'd for our meeting, the notices gone. See, in vehicles, the members arrive one by one. Dust clouds the horizon, bustle reigns at the door. Servants, post-boys, and ostlers— all, all, in uproar : Twenty dozen swift flyers, of various hue. Old, strong, and full feather' d, and chiefly of blue. Casta NG in his car triumphant doth bring. And the bird, dear to Venus, will soon be on wing. And the bird, &c. &c. The guns are uncas'd, the death tube comes forth. Chef d'oeuvres of Manton's — of art, cost, and worth The Picas' Common Court their praises resound. And coif-cover'd Serjeants their merits expound : 254 THE SPORTSMAN'S Their exquisite fabric let envy decry. To surpass them, in vain other artists may try ; While sportsmen of danger are ever in awe, They persons protect by Newton's grand law.* They persons protect, &c. &c. With patents to kill ! — what great devastation, 'Mongst legg'd and wing'd game by the fam'd elevation ! Through spirit litigious, and Chief Justice Gibbs, All the world now enjoys these chaste iron ribs ; The perforate hammer, the lip without screw. Twelve ho'nest men found an invention not new. His skeleton breeches the game doth appal. And the " musical trigger" plays " the dead march in Saul." And the " musical trigger," &c. &c. Twenty paces are measur'd for life's starting post. And happy's the bird who this race has not lost. The sides are now chosen, and sweepstakes agreed ; The pig^eon entrapp'd, will, on signal, be freed. Castang, like the Fates, of life holds the thread. And the Hats' worthy president here takes the lead. The order for flight— pull ! pull ! is now given, And the ill-fated fugitive's down to earth driven. And the ill-fated, &c. &c. The Deputy follows, he bewails his ill luck. The disk's edge of the shot, the bird's only struck With death's mortal wound, feathers floating in air ; His legs hanging down, paralyz'd his career ; * J. Manton's gravitation stop. VOCAL CABINET. 255 Exhausted and sinking, he rocks and he heaves Like a ship Avithout rudder, tlie sport of the waves. The net to surmount, his last effort he tries, Life's limits exceeded, he drops, and he dies. Life's limits exceeded, &c. &c. Rotation's just law now governs the dny. The shooters alternate their science display. First, in order of merit, the nobles appear. With golden diplomas, medals splendid they bear. These tokens of honour emulation excite, And feats yearly, pre-eminent our members requite : This sprig of green laurel, the prize of just aim. Shall render immortal the Old Hat Club's name ! Shall render immortal, &c. &c. See seated around the winter's fire, The heroes of the chase ; See ! many an honest heart is there, And many a cheerful face. Friendship, amidst the jolly throng. Their gen'rous ardour leads. And tunes the rustic huntsman's song. Or tells of former deeds. For now, when toils of chase are o'er. With many a near escape, To Bacchus, jovial god, they pour. The nectar of the grape. 256 THE SPORTSMAN'S For Bacchus gives fresh strength to all. Fresh vigour to the mind, And fills the wearied huntsman's hall, With luxury refined. And while the bottle passes round, Or jug of sparkling ale. Each joins tlie inerry jovial sound, Each tells his fav'rite tale : How reynard pass'd the river's flood, The valley and the mead ; How Basto check'd him at the wood, Or Tartar took the lead. Each tongue relates M'itli ardent breath, 'Midst loud applauding cries. Who came the foremost to the death, And gain'd the noble prize. How Dick, the parson, jolly soul '. Did dash tlirough thick and tliin ; And Tom, the huntsman, reach'd the goal, With Jack the whipper-in. But now they fill their glasses high. While mirtli lights every face. And toast with many a joyful cry, " The champions of the chase." VOCAL CABINET. 257 On Parnassus" green top, where immortal groves nod, Apollo presiding assembled his quire : Enibower'd in laurel supreme sat the God, And swept at one stroke the full chords of his lyre. So sweetly it rung. With his golden hair strung, Wliile each muse " lo Pa?an" triumphantly sung ; To consecrate all in a chorus divine, The bow of Apollo at harmony's shrine, The strains reached Olympus, when good Father Jove, Resolving to honour his favourite sou, Cave the word to descend to the musical grove. And invited each Goddess and God to make one. From the regions of air. All gladly repair. To the bow"r of Apollo, his triumphs to share : And consecrate all, in a chorus divine. The bow of Apollo at harmony's shrine. At Jove's mighty presence Apollo uprose, And struck with fresh ardour his lyre once again : With brighter effulgence his countenance glows, Thus grac'd by the Father of Gods and of men. Then, with song and with glee. Was pronounc'd a decree. By a fiat of Jove, that the bow henceforth be, Tho' Mars and Bellona may fume and repine, An emblem of pastime at harmony's shrine. 258 THE SPORTSMAN'S The son of Latona, his purpose pursues, And to harmony raises a shrine and a seat ; Anon, quick as thought, each divinity views, In a far distant isle, a romantic retreat; Where many a band. Spread wide o'er the land. Are twanging the bow with a masterly hand. And in gaily deck'd orders are met to consign This emblem of pastime at harmony's shrine. That shrine, quoth the God, shall resemble a mound Of verdant spring turf, on an ample plain fix'd ; In its centre an orb, like a shield, all around, With colours attractive and bright intermix'd : At these, our intent Is, that each bow be bent. And each arrow right home to some circle be sent, There harmlessly piercing to stand as a sign, And emblem of pastime in harmony's shrine. The Celestials approve. Father Jove nods assent. And in thunder his fiat most loudly proclaims ; Young Bacchus, quick rising, declares his content Would be tenfold, if he might assist at these games : Not as archery's guide ; But at evening preside. And refresh honest hearts with the grape's purple tide ; When each archer assembled, sliall cheerfully join The circle devoted to music and wine. VOCAL CABINET. 259 Agreed, quoth Apollo, with Bacchus 111 share The festive amusements on archery's day. At morn to the butts let each bowman repair, At eve let him tune o'er the goblet the lay ; Thus blending delight, Shall each order unite With the sports of Apollo, young Bacchus's rite : By his nectar enliven" d shall freely combine, The bow's honest pastime with music and wine. Don't you see that as how I'm a sportsman in style. All so kickish, so slim, and so tall ; Why I've searchd after game, and that manys the mile, And see'd no bit of nothing at all : My licence I pockets, my pony I strides. And I pelts through the wind and the rain ; And if likely to fall, sticks the spurs in the sides. Leaves the bridle and holds by the mane. To be sure, dad, at home, kicks up no little strife, But damme what's that, ent it fasliion and life. At sporting I never was know'd for to lag, I was always in danger the first ; When at Epson, last Easter, they tum'd out the stag, I'm the lad that was rolled in the dust. Then they call me a nincom — why over the fields. There a little be3'ond Dulwich Common, I a chick and a goose tumbled neck over heels, And two mudlarks, besides an old woman. Then let miserly dad kick up sorrow and strife, I'm the lad that's genteel, and knows fashion and life. 2G0 THE SPORTSMAN'S But don't go for to think I neglects number one ; — Often wlien my companions with ardour. Are hunting about with the dog and the gun, I goes and I hunts in the larder : There I springs me a woodcock, or flushes a quail, Or finds puss as she sits under cover, Then soho to the barrel, to start me some ale, And when I have dined, and fed Rover, Pays my landlord his shot, as 1 ogles his wife. While the daughter cries out— lord, what fashion and life. Then I buys me some game, all as homeward we jog, And when the folks ax how I got "em, Tho" I shootcd but once, and then killed the poor dog, I swears, and stands to't, that I shot 'em. So come round me, ye sportsmen, that's smart and what not. All stylish and cutting a flash ; When your piece won't kill game, charg'd with powder and shot. To bring- 'em down, down with your cash : And if with their jokes and their jeers folks are rife, Why damme, says you, 'ent it fashion and life ? Reclin'o upon a bank of moss, Which golden butter-cups emboss. And violets stud profusely, Reside the trout-enlivened Stour, With Pope's dear verse I charm the hour, In pensive ease reclusely. VOCAL CABINET, 261 Poor Dash alone, my old ally. Sits in profound demureness nigh, O'erwatchiug every page, And wondering much, as much he may, What case can thus, the summer day. His master's care engage ! But should Amanda seek the brook. With sportive line and specious hook To tempt the finny race. At once I quit the charming lays, On her beguiling- eyes to gaze. And soft dissembling face. She, with her treacherous smile serene. Her sly placidity of mien. And those beguiling eyes. Throws out the lure with finest art. More bent to catch a foolish heart Than seize a wat'ry prize. Vain angler ! slave to man's applause, Heartless herself, for hearts she draws. Then flings them lightly by — Yet, though I know and scorn the cheat, Bewitched by all her bland deceit, I cannot, dare not, fly. Hark ! the hollow woods resounding, Echo to the hunter's cry ; Hark ! how all the vales surrounding, To his cheering voice reply. 262 THE SPORTSMAN'S Now so swift o'er hills aspiring, He pursues the gay delight ; Distant woods and vales retiring Seem to vanish from his sight. Hark ! the hollow woods resounding, Echo to the hunter's cry ; Hark ! how all the vales surrounding To his cheering voice reply. Flying still, and still pursuing, See the fox, the hounds, the men ; Cunning cannot save from ruin. Far from refuge, wood, and den. Now they kill him, homeward hie him, To a jovial night's repast ; Thus no sorrow e'er comes nigh them. Health continues to the last. What jocund delight ! hark, the cry of the hounds, Up the burn, down the brae, see they sweep ; Ruddy health leads the chase, glade and valley resounds. While echo reverberates deep. The hounds, and the horns, and the hunter's shrill cries. In spirited cadence of music, arise. All nature joins chorus ; the forest resounds To the hunters, the horns, and the cry of the hounds ; All nature joins chorus, &c. VOCAL CABINET. 263 Our game is before us, be ready— he dies ! At bay he beholds, and his liunters defies ! They lose hira, at fault !— he has taken the burn, They're still on his foot, and the scent will return ; Away then, hark to him ; hark forward ! he dies ; By force, or by cunning, by stealth, by surprise ! Away, for your life !— from the forest, away — Not the stag, but yourself, they are holding at bay. Hark ! the king He recalls us, his pleasure to know- Enough ; tho' deferred, not less certain the blow ; The bugle resounding, shrill echo replies. Success crown the chase, for the stag is our prize. Mount, brothers, mount, His now the time for capering ; The hunter's horn sounds merily o'er hill and dale ; Leave horrid fancies, ennui, and vapouring, To dandies, that in London town at fogs look pale ; There's I, myself, and Mr. A, you'll seldom meet a better one ; And Mr. Grosvenor, Mr. Foley, likewise Mr. Farquhar- son ; Whilst Melton-Mowbray* 'gins to fill with very many noble sirs. And Villiers, Wyndham, Graham, are gay, in spite of dull Novembers. * There is no comparison between the stables at Melton and those in any other part of the world, as far as accommodation for hunters is required : large boxes are attached to all, with rooms adjoining, for the use of the servants. Of all others this is the place to see hunters in condition. It has been estimated 264 THE SPORTSMAN'S Oh ! sucli a muster, spite of wind and weather, boys ; Such a stud of gallant steeds was jarely seen : Spring and young summer, too, may boast their gay and genial joys ; But ours, of all the year beside, the happiest scene : Huntsmen, in gay array, mount their bits of blood, in state. Whilst lords and commons dash away, such glorious sport to emulate ; And winds and wintry storms, that oft about our rapid course will fly. Are drown'd in our hark-forwards soon, and in the hounds* deep melody. Then for gay company, the town cant boast so fine a set. As now are scatter'd o'er the world, the foes to woe ; Wor'ster and Leicester, Hants, and Wilts, and Somerset, Turn out their several teams and packs, a glorious shew ; Whilst there appear such studs and chiefs, as would the puritannic vex. From Glo'stershire, and Dorsetshire, and Hereford, and Middlesex ; Whilst all the best and brightest lads, the Welchmen and the Irishmen, United are, in common cause, with Scotchmen and with Englishmen. that the number of horses kept at Melton and its vicinity amount to upwards of six hundred, and that the annual expense of each may be taken at £60. During the hunting season, " All around is gay, men, horses, dogs, And in each smiling countenance appears Fresh blooming health, and universal joy." VOCAL CABINE'f . 265 Then, brother sportsmen, away with lamentation, There is no gloomj- montli for us from first to last ; Each brings its joys along for every home and station, And wisdom hopes the next hour will happier than the past : Though now the leaf is g-one, and tempest >vinds are blowing, boys. Yet ours are still the jolly hearts, that spite of all are glowing, boys ; And sport at morn, and feasts at night, shall make us still remember, That heaven has sent us life enough to kill a dull No- vember. SiTscE custom of old has call'd out for a song. To follow the fashion can never be wrong ; Tho' Apollo should deign not his aid to infuse, The attempt still is good, an attempt to amuse. The world all throughout, men were archers of old, And, just as we do, took their aim at the gold ; Tho' we claim no invention, our boast is not small. We boast that our arrows are ne'er dipt in gall. No voice cries amidst our convivial board, " Your sport does our death and destruction afford ;" For seldom does mirth or festivity reign, WTiere no pang is felt, or M'here hidden pain. Not Diana herself should preside at our feasts, Who could find nothing else to shoot at but wild beasts ; 2 A 266 THE SPORTSMAN'S Who for chastity's sake in the woods kept her court ; But chaster far chaster is our noble sport. Then the ancients themselves, so expert with the bow, Would fetch down a man just as soon as a crow ; There was that fellow too, in revenge wlio let fly, And, as cool as you please, aimed at " Philip's right eye. 'Twere endless to count all the archers of fame. Who with different weapons take different aim ; In the annals of sportsmen the gamester's well known. Who a pigeon ne'er sees, but he marks for his own. With his uplifted pen, next the satyrist cries, " Be it mine to shoot folly and vice as they rise ;" Our wits must have butts, too, for jesting and sport. And so too have we — they are butts of old port. Behold the proud victor returning from war ; Hear the echoing shouts that resound from afar ; But amidst his delights see the tyrant grows pale. While oppression and anguish repeat their sad tale ! But these festive pleasures no canker destroys, No guilty reflection our triumph annoys ; Our laurels are wrested from no conquered foe. We claim victory's wreath without striking a blow ! Then hail sacred innocence, goddess divine. Our freedom, our friendship, our joys are all thine ; May our sports be renewM with the year, and remain Till the arrows of fate shall the victory gain ! VOCAL CABINET. 267 O ! YE sons of the chase, while your spirits are gay, To the woods of old Shirewood let's hasten away ; There foxes in plenty are sure to be found. Who will try your nag's bottom and speed of each hound. To the woods of old Shirewood the sportsmen are gone. From the woods of old ShireMood sly reynard is flown ; Now dash through the Welkin, see yonder they go. How bravely they halloo— hark ! hark ! tally-ho ! Each heart swells M'ith pleasure, each pulse with delight, As the horn's winding echo ascends o'er yon height ; Such feeling exstatic, but sportsmen can know, When they hear the bold halloo— hark ! hark! tally-lio ! Poor reynard has hastened o'er hill and o'er dale, His hard running spirit now threatens to fail ; They run him in view, while life's glimmering spark, Hears the near bursting halloo— hark ! my boys, hark ! Now reynard has fallen — his death knell is rung — The woodlands re-echo the shout of the throng ; And homeward returning each sportsman relates. The hedges he's topp'd, and the high swinging gates. Soon Bacchus invites them ; the bottle goes round. And glee and good humour on all sides abound, 'Till iMorplieus, forewarning, bids all to retire. And cherish their spirits with redoubled fire. 268 THE SPORTSMAN'S The harvest was over, the crops were all in, When Dick Goodshot and I to the farms took a turn ; On the fam'd Kentish hills we thought first to begin, And not like your cockneys, quest brick-fields and fern. For we knew the old birds with their covies so strong. Sought tlie stubbles to pick up their food ; So equipped like true sportsmen we journeyed along, To the haunts of the delicate brood. We enter'd a manor, with leave from the lord, Where 'twas likely the broods were concealed ; AVhen my comrade and I, in friendly accord, Agreed to partition the field. Our pointers were stanch, and filled with delight, For they lov'd, like their masters, the sport ; 'Twould have pleas'd you, good fellows, to look on the sight, For 'twas richer than I can report. At length, spotted Ponto gave signs of a scent, 'Twas a picture to see how he stood ; I follow'd him close, for I knew what he meant, His practice was always so good. At length, the birds rose, their wings borne on the air. With their whirl fiU'd the ambient space ; I poured in my liglitning, a identiful share. And brought down an excellent brace. VOCAL CABINET, 269 Dick Goodsliot surpass'd me in point of success, For his aim was more fatal than mine ; At every shot you will hear him confess, VV'here I kiird a brace, he shot trine. Thus we toiPd through the day, and had plenty of sport. And at evening return"d to the town. To such honest fellows as you to resort, And with glee to the bottle sit down. Thus partridge shooting, my friends, has its charms, Can the gamester say this, and be true ? While the sportsman is safe from the lawyer's alarms, The gamester brings thousands to rue. The hunt is begun, hark ! the sound of the horn, Through woodlands and valleys is heard ; The sportsmen awake with the lark in the morn, With vigour and health are prepared. CHORUS. To follow the chase of the stag, or the fox. Over mountains, and dales, over rivers, and rocks. Huzza ! see the hounds and the coursers they fly. What mortals can be more elate ? Ko prospect impedes them, they danger defy. For boldly ttiey leap the barr'd gate. To follow the cliase, &c. 2 A 2 270 THE SPORTSMAN'S The blush of the morning is seen in each face, And pleasure enlivens the whole ; For when they return from the toils of the chase, At night they sing over the bowl. To follow the chase, &c. RECITATIVE. The nimble hours obey great Phcebus' call. Forth from the east proceeds his mighty car: By just degrees now fades the gloomy night. And ev'ry hill is burnishd o'er with gold. AIR. To the field, to the field, brother sportsman, repair, And banish dull slumber away, The hounds are all out and have started the hare, While echo resounds to the lay. Sweetly sounds the blithe horn. Thro" each coppice and grove. As cheerly the hunters pursue. Then let us proceed to the sports that we love, Health and pleasure, is what we've in view. Should sly reynard appear, as we pass o'er the plain. Strait his course, we will follow apace, His turning and winding, will prove all in vain. For boldly we'll follow the chase. Over mountains and rocks, with speed he may fly. Our hounds shall as eager pursue. Then, huzza, my brave boys, let the sound reach the sky. Health and pleasure, is all we've in view. VOCAL CABINET. 271 Let the hart fly before us, the chase we'll maintain. In spite of his strength, or his speed, We'll hound o'er the hedges, or skim o'er the plain, And till we o'ertake him proceed. There is nothing to baulk us, no fear shall invade. While thus we've the object in view. From the prospect around us, around us display'd, Health and pleasure 'tis plain we pursue. Thus in chasing the fox, or the hart, or the hare, Or whatever starts in our M'ay, Of sport each is certain, to have a full share. Then loudly let's cry out huzza ! Huzza, then at night, to the bowl straight we fly, Each fribble and fopling we scorn ; Sweet sleep shall befriend us, on bed when we lie, And we wake to fresh sport in the morn. Though I rove through the wilds of majestic Braemar, 'Mid the haunts of the buck and the roe. O I oft are my thoughts with my dear friends afar, 'JVIid the black cocks of Minnard that go. 6^ O sweet upon bonny Loch Tyne be your weather, As is mine on the banks of the Dee ! And light be your steps o'er Kilberry's braw heather, As on Fife's mine own footsteps can be ! May the scent still lie warm on the heath of Argyle, Thy pointers stand stanch, and unerring tliiiie aim, As I bring down the birds, right and left— while I smile, To think that my friend may be doing the same. 272 THE SPORTSMAN'S Nor your trophies alone is my fancy revealing ! Well I picture the scores that have bled — Long — oh ! long ere this hour, round the laird's lonely shelling. That murderous lair, Caddenhead ! Every shot that we fire, as it peals through the air, I consider a kind of a greeting. There is nought of forgetfulness, here, John ! nor there^ Taste your flask to our blithe winter meeting ! Sound, sound the horn, Sound, sound the horn ! Let joys harmonious rise, Wliile we chase tlie fox or hare Thro' fields, and vales, and lawns, Bold reynard takes his way. These are our joys. These cheerful morns. At night feast on our prey. At night feast on our prey. CHORUS. Sound, sound the horn. The merry, merry horn ! Let misers court their gold, And statesmen mind the state ; 'Tis healtli we prize. And health we claim. In pursuit of our cheerful game. Sound, sound the horn, Sound, sound the horn, Let joys harmonious rise, VOCAL CABINET. 273 ^Vliile we chase the fox or hare, Thro' fields, and vales, and lawn* Bold reynard takes his way. These are our joys. These cheerful morns. At night feast on our prey. Sound, sound the horn. The merry, merry horn. On sixth November, year sixteen, A Coursing Club did all convene ; Best of the gentry in our nation. At Turriff meet for their diversion. Eight swift greyhounds as ever run. Did run that day two cups to win : Ten hares were chas'd far frae their nest, But gallant Spring outran the rest. Like lightning flew the riding troops. To catch the view who gain'd the cups ; iMore pleasant hunting ne'er ^^as seen. In Banffshire nor in Aberdeen. All votes unanimous were sure, Spring gain'd the cups for Nether-muir : Tho' nearly match'd, thou gain'd the ground, Thou'st made thy master's dogs renown'd. Well, are j'e worth a silver collar, With waving medal o'er your chuUcr ; With an inscription, grand and rare. Describing thy victorious war. 274 THE SPORTSMAN'S Grand was the treat we got that night, For thy sake Spring thou was so wight ; No home-spun drink to us did come, Six English pints of finest rum. To drink thy health and Xether-muir, And all the honoured gentry there, Punch Mas made sweet of the fine rum. We drank till could not bite your thumb. So-hoing hares I gain'd some treasure, And gratified the sportsmen's pleasure ; The best of sportsmen sure was there. For foxes, fowls, or running hare. Wishing when to course they go. Let me be there to see the show. Though music delights me, yet none has a charm. Like the nose of old Vandal * ye gods what a thrill ! Pursuing the scent at the head of the pack. When first we see reynard just mounting the hill. Tally-ho ! is the word, clap spurs, and let's follow. The M'orld has no charm like a rattling view halloo ! Then it seems as if horses, the hounds, and the men. Were moved by one love to the joys of the chase ; Then fly over woodland, and mountain, and glen. With spirits elastic, and nerve tightly braced. Tally-ho ! is the word, clap spurs, and let's follow. The world has no charm like a rattling view halloo! * A celebrated hound in Colonel Wyndhana's pack. ^ OCAL CABINET. 275 The charm nerer ceases, for hope never flags, The ardour's the same, while the inu THE- SPORTSMAN'S Hark forward, now, to Harford Moor,* Quick round by Hallf slie flies. There turns, and doubles, o'er and o'er, ' 'Till seiz'd upon she dies. Yoicks, yoicks, yoicks, &c. &c. Return 'd to Slade,+ with bosoms light, These pleasures we admire, We'll crown with generous wine at night, And^drink, " God bless the Squire." Next hunting^ morn, o'er Stall-Moor hills,4 With hearts like sportsmen gay. Again we'll rout all mortal ills, And follow, " hark away." Yoicks, yoicks, yoicks, &c. &c. Of Bath I'd heard our neig-hbours talk, And of its famous races ; Where ladies, with bare bosoms, stalk. Great heads and painted faces ; Where knowing blades, with hearts and spades, Are laying wait to bite us ; And little beaux, in silken clothes. Are thought hermaphrodites, sirs. • A branch of Dartmoor Forest. •f- An old mansion, now converted into a farm-house, the pro- perty of Sir J. Rogers. X The seat of John Spurrell Pode, Esq. § Another branch of Dartmoor Forest. VOCAL CABINET. 307 Our harvest safe within the house, Thought 1 unto myself, sirs, Zooks ! I'll for once my spirits rouse, Nor mind a little pelf, sirs : With boots and whip, I'll take a trip, And saddle steady Dragon : As good a nag as e'er did drag A plough or loaded waggon. Then straight I don'd my Sunday clothes, Best hat, and Sunday breeches ; With that strip'd pair of worsted hose That Cicely bewitches : Then up I got, and 'gan a trot. No lord or 'squire look"d bigger ; My saddle new, and bridle, too, Egad ! I cut a figure. Now, traveler like, I should acquaint. And give a long description ; Who, such an ale-house sign did paint. Who, cut such tomb's inscription : Like that fair dame, of lasting fame, Who went Italian journies ; And some I've seen i' th' IMagazine — Your Twisses and your Burneys. But I'll forbear, and speak of nought. Until I reach the city ; Where every thing appeared, I thought, Most wondrous fine and pretty : 308 THE SPORTSMAN'S I saw half moons, and squares, and rooms, For gentlefolks to dance in ; The fine ne\v gaol, and riding school. Where stately nags were prancing. The famous baths I went and view'd, Where boiling waters bubble ; Without the help of coal or wood, Or any such like trouble. Lud ! how I gaz'd and stood aniaz'd ; Egad I'd cause to wonder ! " For, zooks !" said I, then gave a sigh, " Why, surely h— 11 is under !" A fellow did my fancy catch ; Oh, la! when first I gliraps'd 'en, I swore aloud it was old scratch. For zure 1 smelt some brimstone ! But one who knew, told me as how, 'Twas Bladud, prince of Briton, Who, with his hogs, found out these bogs : A lucky place he hit on ! For, by this very boiling spring. It clear" d him fi-om disorder : Went home, and soon was made a king. His master made a lord, sir ; And who do know but my poor Joe, That little merry dog, sirs. Was not long since some mighty prince. And only now incog, sirs ? VOCAL CABINET. 309 Within this smoky, sulph'rous pool, Old Madam Gout-toe M-addles ; And Humphrey Limp, that hippish fool. With Madam Barren paddles ; While some above, their healths t' improve, Tho' to appearance sturdy. The waters take, for fashion's sake, Or hear the hurdy-gurdy. But now the Down my song must claim. And "tis with joy I tell it ; Did I but half the beauties name, "Twould to a volume swell it. Mechanic blades now quit their trades. And each his doxy seizes ; Some (to save ground) break hedges down, " For d— n it, lads, 'tis races !" Whilst up the steep and dusty road The chaise and coaches rattle ; Whilst Lady Ton, flith sweet Miss Mode, "Bout equipages tattle ; And Franky Fig, in his big wig, A perfect macaroni ! With Peter Pluck, a Bristol buck, Both mounted on a pony. In carts and waggons mounted high. Rude trulls, with ill-look"d fellows. Who seem'd for all the world, thought I, As going to the gallows : 310 THE SPORTSMAN'S Close by my side, on hunters ride. Displaying well fiU'd purses ; Whose small round hats, and silk cravats, Shew their great skill in horses. But, e'er the race begins, I think, ril saunter at my leisure ; And at the pretty lasses wink. Or view the girls of pleasure : Zooks ! there they are, with powder'd hair. Cheeks redden'd with vermilion ; 'With ogling eyes, one me espies, ■ Then da— ns the sIoav postillion. One monstrous head I chanc'd to pick The quality among, sirs. Resembling much my great hay-rick. Stuck round with rakes and prongs, sirs. A little jilt with waggon lilt, I laugh'd aloud to see, sirs. As I'm alive, just like a hive. And in it one small bee, sirs. But, hark ! the drum three times hath beat. The horses now are ready ; The riders look so tight and neat. And hold their heads so steady : Now they've begun— look how they run ! Like hares from thickets rushing ; The riders whip, the horses skip, Now, now the dogs are pushing ! VOCAL CABINET. 3] I " Here's six to four that Marquis wins," Cries out a knowing kiddj^ , "And three to one against Miss Tims ; " The field against Miss Biddy: " Make room ! make room — the liorses come ! " Or down by Jove Til knock ye ! " Miss Tims is first, the jade be curst, " And bl— t Miss Biddy's jockey !" Now neck and neck along they fly. Like bullets from a gun, sirs ; Poor Marquis, 'tis in vain to try ! Miss Tims has fairly won, sirs : The knowing bloods are in the suds, With sighs, and sinking hearts, sirs ; Tliey strive to see some friendly tree. Then, feel how strong their garters. Now to the Down I'll bid farewell. And end my tiresome ditty ; For 'tis too long I hear you tell. But not a jot too witty. Without dismay I'll ever say. This place each place surpasses ; 'Tis pleasure's rounds, where wit abounds. And beauty crowns its lasses. RECITATIVE. The shadows of the night are fled away. And from the orient peeps the God of Day ; 312 THE SPORTSMAN'S While the melodious horn's enliv'ning sound, Calls jovial hunters to the destin'd ground : Let us, my gay companions, then pursue. Invigorating sport that's ever new. AIR. Rosy health marks the cheeks, and contentment the minds. Of the hunters who jovially chuse, To give wild ambition to fast fleeting winds, And riches for pleasure refuse. In the morn, when Apollo from Thetis' s breast. As gay as a bridegroom has stole ; And the sweet thrilling- lark springs elate from her nest. Melodious to gladden the whole. With our horses and hounds, all lively as May, Over mountains and moorlands we run ; When reynard, from covert, steals swiftly away. We rival the course of the sun. All shouting we follow the merry-mouth'd hounds. Over hedges and ditches we fly ; Tally-ho, and tantaron, thro* woodlands resounds. While rapture beams bright in each eye. The traitor subdued, from the chase we retire. To the mansion for welcome rcnown'd ; Song-, wine, wit, and friendship, our bosoms inspire, " Love and loyalty join the brisk round. VOCAL CABINET. 313 Our sweethearts and wives, condescending and fair. Crown our festive and plentiful board ; If thus cheerful and happy our days then declare. Can life richer blessings afford ? Hark away ! hark away ! to the sound of the horn ; Our horses are mounted with glee, We ride full of life, and Avill banish all strife. For merry fox-hunters are we. Arrived at the covert, so anxiously sought, Tlie hounds full of mettle and speed, Soon rouse up sly Reynard, who, quicker than thought, Breaks away like an old one, indeed. Tally-ho ! there he races, now give him good time, Hold hard, sir, and let the hounds trail ; You'll have a fair start, and his brush that he shakes. May be your's ere he reach yonder dale. Now, now, we all fly, each determined to go. Condition will show who can last : Though this burst is severe, we'll do"t never fear. And honour the name of our cast, No craneing or creeping, o'er walls and gates leaping. Each courage is put to the test : If we wish now to near them, those fences — go clear them. Ram the spurs in, and each do our best. 2 E 314 THE SPORTSMAN'S Our fallow and mead we stride at full speed. In vain for a gap we may look ; The country so close is, the tace such a dose is. We must into, or oAer yon brook. See, Fitzroy has hold of him close by the pate, Dash forward, and off with his brush ; For I see the young huntsman now rasping yon gate. And some sporting men clipping the rush. Well done, my good boy, this is really a day In hunting exploits to be noted ; The heart that is in him, is sure now to win him The brush, and by all it is voted. Whoo-whoop! the good hounds, you deserve well your fox, You've run hiin full twenty long miles ; And we all shall remember this day of December, The fences, the brooks, and the stiles. - Tis a fine manly sport, it gives courage to youth, ]\Iay Britons, boys, always befriend it ; If our foe should assail, in his steel coat of mail. Such lads would be foremost to rend it. How happy is the angler's life. No joy excels his pleasures ; While Mammon ends his days in strife To multiply his treasures. In needful stores we find a charm. Enough to keep the mind from harm. And fill the even measures. VOCAL CABINET. 315 At morning, if the sky be fair, We leave our couch in quiet. And selfish fools to die by care, And wanton rakes by riot. With bliss supreme we reach the stream, ' The busy bleak, or perch we seek, The dace, or speckled trout so sleek. Or else the stately bream. Now, down the daisy bank we sit, Prepare the fly or gentle ; But never in our sports forget To exercise the mental. The landscape round deligh':s the eye, nie blackbird deals his sonnet. While summer brings her new supply, A rray'd in plenty's bonnet. To these belong the grateful song : Let sons of wit, this task forget. We think their conduct wrong. ■ Sometimes beside the stream we sit For many a silent hour. Yet never with Impatience fret, Or let the spirits cower. Hut if we find the inmates shy And cautious, past enduring. Full many a skilful trick we try To draw them to our luring. 316 THE SPORTSMAN'S For fish, like men, full nine in ten, Have very strang-e vagaries ; They'll leap on high to catch the fly. Then sink to where fresh fare is. With wanton eye, perhaps they spy The hook where fiist our bait is, If there they bite, then we delight To teach them how their fate is. Some fools there are of fashion's train Who call our pastime idle. And say, what reason can't maintain. To cruelty we sidle. While they entice to cards and dice. And put on misery's bridle. Then, brother anglers, lefs pursue The sport to health and quiet true. Each gamester is a sappy : The best of lads were fishermen. They led the way from misery's den. And taught us to be happy. Away with those evils the gloomy contrive. They oft lead to the gulph of despair. While the sons of the chase lasting pleasure derive From exercise, quiet, and air. Then come, let us follow the joy-stirring horn. And dash through the current, light-hearted, at morn. While the red berry hangs to the bough of the thorn. VOCAL CABINET. 317 The lark shall deliglit as %ve go, And echo, shrill echo, shall merrily tell To brown labour that follows the plough in the dell, The pleasures the chase can bestow. - Hygeia, bright goddess, shall mantle the face. While Chloe looks on with delight, And yields to her sportsman a loving embrace. With whispers that always are sure to solace. While she gives to the world a inoi'e manly formed race, Than the fop, who turns day into night. Then come, let us follow while brilliant's the sun, Too soon his bright beams will be set ; And at evening ^ve'll tell of the feats we have done In the stubble-dress'd field with the dog and the gun. And toast the sweet girls our affections have won. Where the sons of Diana have met. The bottle shall merrily flow. While mirth, laughing mirth, shall make gladsome the heart, Till the finger of time points the hour to depart To the comforts that rest can bestow. I'E 2 318 THE SPORTSMAN'S Arise, jolly sportsmen, arise with the sun, Get your shot-belt and powder-flask, dog and your gun ; For the game have all fed, and by this are all fled, In some field for to bask in the sun. Now, on to the field where you mean for to try, Mark the wind where it blows, still as you draw nigh. Hunt up wind, do not fear ; Doll you'll find in the rear, And with pleasure will go through the day. Now Doll she draws nigh, to the spot where they lie. What pleasure for you to command, Mark well in your eye, when upwards they fly. For Doll stiff on three legs doth stand. Like a cloud they now rise, which dazzles your eyes, Now join, brother sportsman, in haste ; Now level your gun, and be sure you kill one, But never look after a brace. Like a bullet it fell ; Doll runs for to smell. Pray do not this pleasure refuse ; Speak kindly and softly, good humour'd and free, And do not good Dolly abuse. So we make the game yield in meadow and field, In air and in woodland as well : At eve we return to our bottle and friend. And drink success to the sports of the field. VOCAL CABINET. 3i9 RECITATIVE, ACCOMPANIED. The horn salutes Ihe ear, The hunters ready, morning clear, Come, the happy hours embrace. Join the ever jovial chase. See the stag how he bounds, O'er the neighbouring ground*, His speed still increas'd by his fear. For hills and dales are soon past, See his swiftness so vast, Tlie huntsman he leaves in the rear. For 'twas Nimrod of old. By the, poets we are told, Began first the sports of the chase ; Tlio' so great was his fame, Tliere's a slur on his name, As men he pursued in the race. But such tyrants the chase Will its pleasures disgrace. Yet friendship shall still be our guide ; With the sound of the horn Call forth each in the morn. Our sports there shall nothing divide. But again he's in view And we nearer pursue, His spirits decrease as he flies ; Now they've puU'd him to ground, And the hounds have him bound. Ah ! see how he trembles and dies. 320 THE SPORTSMAN'S Now our pleasure's complete. Hock, the horn sounds retreat, Our sports does our health still maintain To tlie bowl next away, We'll with joy crown the day, And then be £is merry again. The tuneful wind of Robin's born Hath welcomed thrice the blushing moiii ; Then haste, Clorinda, haste away, And let us meet the rising day. And through the green wood let us go 'With arrows keen, and bended bow ; Tliere breathe the mountain's fresh'ning'gale, Or scent the blossoms in the vale. For nature now is in her prime, • ■Tis now tlie lusty summer time ; When grass is green, and leaves are long, And feather'd warblers tune their song. At noon, in some sequester'd glade, Beneathsome oak tree's ample shade We'll feast : nor envy all the fare, ^Vhich courtly dames and barons share. See, 866 in yonder glen appear In wanton herds tlie fallow deer : Then haste, my love, Oh ! liaste away. And let us meet the rising day. ■ VOCAL CABINET. 321 A CAROLL OF HUNTYNGE.* As I came by a grene forest syde, I met with a forster y' badde me abyde. Whey go bet, hey'go bet, heygo, howe We shall have sport and g^ame ynowe Underneath a tre I dyde me set And with a grete herte anone I met I badde let slyppe, and sayd hey go bet. With hey go bet, hey go bet howc. I had not stande there but a whyle Not the mountenance of a myle There came a great herte without gyle There he gothe, there he gothe, &c. We shall have sport and game ynowe. Talbot my hounde with a merry taste All about the grene wode he gan cast I toke my home and blew him a blast With tro, ro, ro, ro : tro, ro, ro, ro. With hey go bet, hey go bet, &c. There he gothe, there he goth, &c. We shall have sport and game ynowe. V/hat shall he have that killd the deer? His leather skin and horns to wear. * This is supposed to have been the first carol written on the suVject of hunting. THE SPORTSMAN'S Take you no scorn to wear a horn. It was a crest ere thout wast born, Tl)y fathers father bore it, A nd tliy father wore it ; The horn, tlie horn, the lusty horn, Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. Hark I hark ! hark ! How the woods do ring With the hunters' halloo. With the hunters' halloo. And the cry that they follow, Tliat they follow. O I this is music, 'Hiis is music for a king. Hark 1 hark, kc. O ! the wily, wily fox, With his many wily mocks, We'll earth him if you'll but follow. And when that we have don"t. To conclude this merry hunt, Let us roundly whoop and halloo. Prithee drink, prithee drink. Prithee, prithee, prithee drink. That the hunters may follow. As late by the Thames's verdant side. With solitary, pensive air. Fair Chlue search'd the silver tide. With pleasing hope and patient care ; VOCAL CABINET. Forth as she cast the silken fly. And musing stroll'd the bank along, She thought no list'ning ear was nigh. While thus she tun'd her moral song. " The poor, unhappy, thoughtless fair, Like the mute race, are oft undone ; These with a gilded fly we snare, With gilded fiatt'ry those are won. Careless, like them, they frolic round. And sportive toss th' alluring bait ; • At length they feel the treach'rous wound. And struggle to be free too late. " But ah ! fiiir fools, beneath this show Of gaudy colours, lurks a hook ; Cautious, the bearded mischief view. And, ere you leap, be sure to look." More she'd have sung — when, from the shade, Rusli'd forth gay Damon, brisk and young ; And whatsoe'er he did or said. Poor Chloe quite forgot her song. With raptures extatic Aurora we hail, And joyous the well-furnished table assail : In the hall we assemble where plenty presides, • xVnd sloth's torpid son each keen sportsman derides. Then prim'd for the field, we prepare to depart. Whilst tlie bugle's blithe strains enliven the heart. CHORUS. To be cautious or careful is nonsense and folly. For life's truest end is to live and be jolly. 324 THE SPORTSMAN'S The hounds now unkennell'd rush forward to vicM', O'erspreadin;? the lawn richly spangled Avith dew ; Our steeds snutf the breeze — in our saddles we vault, And the scenes that surround us our spirits exalt. The heather-deck'd moor bursting full on the sight. Imparts to each bosom a thrill of delight. To be cautious, &c.. Hark ! that burst of old Victor, what a soul-thrilling sound. How eager they follow — hills and rallies resound : Sly Reynard's strong drag attracts the whole throng. And full to the cover they wind him aloQg. Here urg'd to decamp, he appears on the view, And^the hounds are cheer'd on by a thund"ring halloo ! To be cautious, &c. Tlie chase is severe, like lightning we fly, Reynard's eiforts are vain — 'tis clear he must die ; Bold Calvin has fix'd thee— poor fool thou must fall, And thy brush add a trophy to grace the old Hall. Now thy death is proclaim'd by the bugle's loud blast. And homeward we turn to the welcome repast. To be cautious, &c. Round the table now seated our jokes we recount, And toasts fly well wine-wash'd, at Bacchus's fount. Good humour and mirth on each countenance shine. And glees, jokes, and songs, give a zest to the wine. INIaking most of our time we reject gloomy sorrow. And look forward with hopes to sports of to-morrow. To be cautious, &c. VOCAL CABINET. 325 How sweet is the breath of the fresli op'ning morn, When tlie dogs all in order and gay ; The fresh clover springing and hous'd all the corn. The stubble well reap'd, and the meadows neat shorn, And we start at the dawning of day. See Don, how sagacious he quarters the ground, How cunning he works "gainst the gale ; Take heed, there's a point ! Toho ! the game's found : Mark Lady, she cautiously backs at the sound ; How extended each nose and each tail ! So staunch they both stand ! not a word— not a breath, Till the birds seek the region of air ; The straight-leveird tubes devote many to death. The covey is mark'd to the yellow-flower'd heath : We reload and for action prepare. In succession of sport, see the day wanes apace. Then how pleasing at night the regale ; Whilst the sportsmen each anecdote love to retrace. To remember each field and each fortunate place, And drink " to the Trigger" in ale. Come here, brother sportsmen, attend to ray song. And no more about fox-hunting brag ; On Pegasus mounted, I'll canter along, And relate how we hunted a stag. One morning in April, with hearts light and gay. To Warley's M'ide common we went : And after we'd loiter'd full three hours away. Squire W y his whipper-in sent. 2f 326 THE SPORTSMAN'S Jack open'd the cart, where the stag lay perdu. And bolted him out from behind ; With amazement we saw our game thus in view, And swore 'twas a beautiful find. The stag trotted off, and the hounds soon appear'd, , (How our bosoms with ardour then glow'd,) The huntsman's loud voice soon the gallant pack cheer'd. And away, like the devil, we rode. We skirted the park, and pass'd Tliorndon's grand hall, And to Dunton we went " a good pace ;" The number that liv'd with the hounds was but small. For the burst was so fine, 'twas a race ! Then for Burstead we bore, and made for the church, And along the green meadows we took ; But some of the riders were left in the lurch. As their horses fell into a brook. Here W y, who rode with the first in the field. Cried, " Where are the fox-hunters now ?" " Noble sir," we replied, " to none will we yield, " There are most of us with you, I trow." Then Laindon we pass'd, and to Basildon came, Where some lads, with their cattle did lag ; Rut to Pitsea they got, though tired and lame. As we view'd, on the marshes, the stag. He first took the soil, then plung'd into the flood, Where old father Thames rolls his tide ; The hounds were all stopp'd, and he quietly stood, For no horseman could after him ride. VOCAL CABINET. 327 Determined, however, the chase to renew, The huntsman his pack led around ; The stag, in full vigour, again from them flew, Disdainfully spurning the ground. He took ev'ry fence— neither bank, ditch, nor dam. Nor river impeded his course ; With courage undaunted, to Canvey Isle swam. And hounded away with fresh force. Then for Bemfleet he made, by Thundersly fled, And near Hadleigh's old castle he pass'd ; Till at Leigh, just as eve her grey mantle had spread, We came up with, and took him at last. CHORUS. Hence AV'ellesley's proud name in our annals shall live. With the heroes, whose deeds are our boast, In hunting and war, none so great can we give. So we'll Wellesley Long drink for a toast. Ye dull, sleeping mortals, of every degree. Awake at the sound of the horn ! Ye sluggards, arise, and go hunting with me. And snuff" the fresh odour of morn. O'er mountains and vallies, thro' woodlands and dales. And forests half hidden to sight, I'll lead, if my argument with you prevails, I'll lead you to scenes of delight. Hygeia shall train you to exercise bold, Hygeia, the goddess of health! Then hasten away o'er the wide-spreading wold. And laugh at the hoarders of wealth : 32S THE SPORTSMAN'S What's gold at the best but a phantom or toy, If health should its blessings deny? Then hasten, and life's rosy vigour enjoy, Haste, hasten, for Reynard must die. In courts, or in cities, can pleasure be found. Compared to the sports of the field ? Then arise, and away o'er the g^een-mantled ground- All pastime to hunting must yield. The ruddy complexion that crimsons the ftice. The peach-blushing glow on the cheek. Proclaim the rich transports derived from the chase. And all that is charming bespeak. O'er many a morning rough winter hath scowl'd, Through many an evening incessantly howl'd Since last we assembl'd, all rang'd in a row, To follow the sport with a trusty yew bow. Full often the merciless power of rain, Descending in torrents, hath deluged the plain ; Where, jocundly tripping, we oft times would go To twang it away with a trusty yew bow. This hall of our merriment cheerless remain'd, And solitude, round it, with apathy reign'd ; Rude Boreas alone here his bugle could blow. When silent the twang of the trusty yew bow. The god of our revelry listened in vain For echo to swell up the rich note agciin. Which, tuneful and mellow, would oftentimes flow From the carol, in praise of the trusty yew bow. VOCAL CABINET. 329 But since old Time keeps trudging, To vary still the year. And the seasons disappear. Rough winter too, With his stormy crew, Trudges it away Time to pursue: Now spring-tide hours returning, Lead in the merry month of May ; Hark ! the bugles call away. With a hey and a ho. To the green-wood to go, And twang it again with a tough yew bow. While as now we are seated trolling A ballad, catch, or glee. Let our fav'rite burden be Hey and ho. To the green-wood go. And twang it away with a tough yew bow. For though ev'ry moment's smiling. Though pleasure gilds each round, Let the circle still be crown' d With a hey ho. To the green-wood go. And finish with a twang of the tough yew bow. Thus, when our sports are over, In autumn's final day. Each bowman sure will say, 2f2 330 THE SPORTSMAN'S Come, a parting cup, Aye, and bumper it up. To the next merry twang of the tough yew bow. Since pleasure now sits smiling here,* Amid this social band. Our sport secur'd from year to year. We'll join with heart and hand ; And a hunting we will go, &c. Try Nossey, then, that famous woot\ As often as you will ; The scent you know is there so good. You'll get a run and kill ; And a hunting we will go, &c. What joy the gallant pack to see ! AVhen tally-ho is cried. With men well mounted, in high glee, Resolv'd to dash and ride ; And a hunting we will go, &c. The 'squire then cheers his fav'rite hound. And goes a slapping pace ; No better sportsman can be found To guide, or lead the chased; And a hunting we will go, &c. • Sung at the dinner given by the members of the Thorndon Hunt, at Billericay, Essex, 1817. VOCAL CABINET. 331 But, as in ticklish times we live, Tlie Crown we will support ; Our landlord, too, declares he'll give His very best of port ; Then a drinking we will go, &c. So push the bottle round, my boys, Ne'er let the wine stand still ; A fox-hunter his glass enjoys ; Come, brother sportsman, fill ; And a drinking we will go, &c. Now farmers, doctors, majors, 'squires, And all good fellows here, A bumper first my toast requires. And then stand by to cheer " To the master of the Hounds." It is the horn, the bliss-toned horn. Salutes the list'ning ear ! And echoing to the breeze of morn, Proclaims the chase is near. Each opening flower its sweets distils. To grace the charms of day; While sounding o'er the Cheviot Hills The horn calls " Hark away !" The leaves display the dews of night All trembling to the eye ; And cloth'd in glist'ning drops of light. Like diamonds seem to lie ! 332 THE SPORTSMAN'S But soon the bright'ning sun-beam kills! Eacli spark and dazzling ray, While sounding o'er the Cheviot Hills The horn calls " Hark away !" It is the chase, the health-fraught chase, Tliat gives a zest to life ; And rich in vigorous rosy grace, ^Dispels the gloom of strife ! 'Tis this with joy the warm heart fills Whatever dolts may say ; While sounding o'er the Cheviot Hills The horn calls " Hark away V Ye sportsmen come forth, Quit your slumber and sloth, And join in the musical chase ; Shall the fops of the town Our diversion cry down ! No ; their sports shall to ours give place. See puss is in view ; Rlark Scentwell and Sue, They push forward as fleet as the wind ! Huzza, my brave boys! What can equal our joys, When our care, and all fear's left beJiind ! Though she mounts up the hill. Yet we'll follow her still, VOCAL CABINET. 333 Till her strength and her courage are gone ; v She doubles — she tries — But alas ! see she dies ! And aloud sounds the horn tantaron. Come, ray lads, let's away. Crown the sports of the daj' With a bottle and mistress at night : Here's to each ruddy face That is fond of the chase, And we'll rise again soon as 'tis light. Though now at rest, my life was gay, I frisk'd it tlirough the month of May All down the pebbled brook. Till th' angler, priding in his skill. Used all his art poor me to kill ;■ I seiz'd his tinsell'd hook. The latent barb so nicely wrought, With gold entwin'd and feathers brought From southern shores afar ; In playful mood I dashing caught, 'Twas thus with guile the angler sought My happiness to mar. 'Tis so with you ; 'twas so with me — Too nuich of life we wish to see. And taste each various sweet ; But sweetness cloys when we've our fill. Or anguish comes : — ah, bitter pill ! Reluctant, death we meet. 334 THE SPORTSMAN'S Ye g-ood men of Kent, so trusty and true, The fame of your fathers beams lustre on you, Invaded by foes, unaccustomed to yield, They were first in the battle and last in the field ; Dismay spread her panic where'er tlieir bows bent. For no arm sent the shaft like the bowmen of Kent. When Harold* of Goodwin oppress'd ye in sport. And the clergyt in all vice kept pace with the court. Bold William, the Norman,^ for England arose. First taught you the bow as he conquer'd your foes ; The weapon so fatal with pleasure you bent. And tlie foremost in fame are the bowmen of Kent. At Agincourt field how you drew the tough yew, The legions of France to their miseries knew : By Erpingham§ headed, what bowman so bold, Witli the viffour of youth, tho' in j-ears very old? His band but three hundred, yet still where be went. The cavalry fled from the lowraen of Kent. When civil commotion thro' England was spread. And tlie Lancaster lads died the white roses red, * After the battle of Stamford, Harold grew insolent, retaining the spoils without distribution to the soldiers. — Sir W. Raleigh. t The clergy licentious and only " Literatura tumultuara content!, scolae, non vitaj discebant. — Malmesbury. X The Normans, at the battle of Hastings, did great execution with the long bow, of which weajwn the English were altogether uajirovided. — Sir IV. Raleigh. § The fame of old Sir Thomas Erpingham and his three hun- dred bows, particularly mentioned in the battle of Agincourt by Drayton. VOCAL CABINET. 335 By Cobham* call'd out, jou were led to the field. And York, through your means, made the red roses yield ; Plantagenet saw, and would sorely lament To meet with such foes .as the bowmen of Kent. Most happy was he who had you on his side, They all knew your worth and caress'd you with pride ; O'er their cups they would sing of the feats you have done You were equall'd by few and outnumber'd by none ; And the richest of blood in the isle ever spent, Was drawn by the shafts of the bowmen of Kent. Tlius famed for your prowess, let bowmen once more Pursue that which honour'd your fathers of yore ; If not for extension of conquests or wealth. For the best of all blessings, — for pleasure and health ; And the plaudit we'll yield as your long bows are bent. No lads can compare with the bowmen of Kent, Bright Phoebus now lights up the radiance of morn, And echo reverberates the sound of the horn ; The blushes of health are now seen on each cheek. And Reynard's resort now they eagerly seek ; O'er hill and o'er dale tantaron they pursue. Then follow, boys, follow, the fox is in view. The silver-toned pack make the woodlands resound. And joy, health, and pleasantry sparkle around ; * The Kentish bows, led out by Lord Cobham, did wonders against the Lancaster party. — Drayton. 336 THE SPORTSMAN'S The hunter each morn thus in exercise spends, And at night sits down with his bottle and friends ; O'er hill and o'er dale thus their ^ame they pursue, And with Phoebus next morning their course they renew. Aurora beams bright, Hunters rise to delight. Discard your dull pillows of down, Over doAvns we must trace. Hills and woodlands embrace, Joj's surpassing the joys of the town. O'er mountains we'll climb. Leaving backward old Time, Giving trouble and grief to the wind ; For a sportsman that's true. Can have little to do With the follies and cares of mankind. Those mortals that fret Cannot happiness get, They surely are greatly to blame ; Tho' the world may run cross, Hunters fret at no loss But the terrible loss of their game. To the woods then away, 'Tis a scent-lying day. The bounty of nature ne'er slight ; Then over the bowl We'll enliven the soul, And beauty will bless us at night. VOCAL CABINET. 337 My bonny moorhen, my bonny moorhen, Up in the gray hill, down in the glen ; It's when ye gang butt the house, when ye gang ben, Aye drink a health to my bonny moorhen. My bonny moorhen's gane over the main, And it will be simmer or she come again ; But when she comes back again, some folk will ken ; Joy be wi' thee, my bonny moorhen ! Come up by Glenduich, and down by Glendee, And round by Kinclaven, and hither to me ; For Ronald and Donald are out on the fen. To break the wing o' my bonny moorhen. With such a brisk widow to whirl time aWay, Ye Gods, what a round of delight! At home we would titter and romp all the day, And fear not a bumper at night. When warm in the chase, the fleet hounds in career. Our spirits disd.aining to flag. We'd whip, spur, and fly, without scruple or fear. And be in at the death of the stag. Huzza! huzza! huzza! We'd be in at the deatli of the stag. The thorn is in the bud. The palm is in the blossom, The primrose, in the shade, Unfolds her dewy bosom. 2 G 33S THE SPORTSMAN'S Sweet Coquet"s purling clear. And summer music making ; The trout has left his lair, Then waken, Fishers, waken. The lavrock's in the sky. And on the heath the plover. The bee upon the thyme. The swallow skimming over ; The farmer walks the field, nie seed he's casting steady : The breeze is blowing west ; Be ready. Fishers, ready. The violet's in her prime. And April is the weather : The partridge on the wing, The muircock in the heather ; The suns upon the pool, His mornin' radiance wasting. It's glittering like the gold ; Oh! hasten. Fishers, hasten. The Felton lads are up. They're lookin' to their tackle ; The sawmon's in tlie stream, And killing is the hackle. If there's a feat to do. Tis Weldon, boys, should do it ; Then up an' rig your gads, And to it, Fishers, to it. VOCAL CABINET. 339 Hark ! thro' the vale, each passing gale. Returns the jocund sound ; The huntsman's cry ascends the sky, The horn and opening hound. Away, away, Make no delay. See Reynard is in view. Let again the horn sound. And echo around, The musical chorus pursue. Away, away, &c. He turns, lie winds, no safety finds, Yet all his cunning tries ; The thick'ning wood, the circling flood, His utmost skill defies ; For still they say. Away, away. See Reynard is in view. Let again the horn sound. And echo, around. The musical chorus pursue. Come, Archers, learn the news I tell. To the honour of your art ; The Scottish king at Flodden fell, By the point of an English dart. 340 THE SPORTSMAN'S Tho' fire and pike did wond'rous things. More wonders still did we ; And every tongue with rapture sings Of the lads of Newbury. The bonny boys of Westmorland, And the Cheshire lads were there ; With glee they took their bows in hand. And with shouts disturb' d the air. Away they sent the grey goose wing ; Each killed his two and three ; Yet none so loud with fame to ring As the lads of Newbury. They swore to scale the mountain bold, Where some in vain had try'd ; That their toes might take the better hold Their boots they cast aside. Bare footed soon they reached the height, 'Twas a goodly sight to see. How fast the Scots were put to flight By the lads of Newbury. Lord Stanly saw M'ith much delight, And aloud was heard to say, Each ought, by Jove, to be a Knight, For to them we owe the day. My Cheshire lads began the rout. And the Kendal boys so free ; But none of them all have fought more stout Than the lads of Newbury. VOCAL CABINET. 341 Now, God preserve our Lord the King. Who travels far in France ; And let us all of Bowmen sing, While round our cups we dance. The Cheshire boj's were brisk and brave. And the Kendal lads as free ; But none surpassed (or I'm a knave) The lads of Newbury. When Phoebus bright the azure skies, With golden rays enlighteneth. He makes all Nature's'.beauties rise ; Herbs, trees, and flowrs, he quick' neth Amongst all those he makes his choice,. And with delight goes thorough. With radiant beams and silver streams. O'er Leader haughs and Yarrow. When Aries the day and night, In equal length divideth, And frosty Saturn takes his flight, Nae langer he abideth : Then Flora Queen, with mantle green. Casts off her former sorrow. And vows to dwell with Ceres' sel'. In Leader haughs and Yarrow. Pan playing- on his aiten reed, And shepherds him attending. Do here i-esort their flocks to feed. The hills and haughs commending ; 2 G 2 312 THE SPORTSMAN'S With cur and kent upon the bent, Sinj*' to the sun g-ood-morrow, And swear nae fields niair pleasure yield Than Leader haughs and Yarrow. An house there stands on Leader side, Surmounting ray describing, With rooms sae rare, and windows fair, Like Dedalus's contriving : Men passing by, do often cry, In sooth it hath nae marrow ; It stands as sweet on Leader side, As Newark does on Yarrow. A mile below wha lists to ride. They'll hear the mavis singing. Into St. Leonard's banks she'll bide. Sweet birks her head o'erhinging : The lintwhite loud, and progne proud, With tuneful throats and narrow, Into St. Leonard's banks they sing, As sweetly as in Yarrow. The lapwing lilteth o'er the lee, With nimble wings she sporteth ; But vows she'll flee far frae the tree Where Philomel resorteth : By break of day, the lark can say, I'll bid you a good morrow, I'll streak my wing, and, mounting', sing, O'er Leader haughs and Yarrow. VOCAL CABINET. 343 Park, Wantan waws, and Wooden cleugh, The East and Western IMainses, The M'ood of Lauder's fair enough, The corn are good in Blainshes ; Where aits are fine, and said by kind, That if ye search all thorough Mearns, Buchan, Mar, nane better are. Than Leader haughs and Yarrow. In Burn-Mill bog, and Whiteslade Shaws, The fearful Hare she hunteth ; Brig-haugh and Braidwoodsheil she knaws, And Chapel-wood frequenteth : Yet when she irks, to Kaidsly birks. She rins and sighs for sorrow That she should leave SM'eet Leader haughs, Aad cannot win to Yarrow. What sweeter music wad ye hear, Than hounds and beigles crying? The started Hare rins hard with fear. Upon her speed relying. But yet her strensfth it fails at length, Nae beilding can she borrow In Sorrel's fields, Cleekman or Hag's, And sighs to be in Yarrow. For Rockwood, Ringwood, Spotty, Shag, With sight and scent pursue her : Till, ah I her pith begins to flag, Nae cunning can rescue her : 344 THE SPORTSMAN'S O'er dub and dike, o'er seugh and syke, She'll rin the fields all thoro.ugh, Till fail'd, she fa's in Leader haughs. And bids farewell to Yarrow. Sing Erslington, and Cowden-knows, Where Homes had anes commanding : And Drygrange with the milk-white ewes, 'Twixt Tweed and Leader standing ; The birds that flee through Reedpath trees, And Gledswood bauks ilk morrow, May chant and sing, sweet Leader haughs, And bonny howmsof Yarrow. But Minstrel Burn cannot assuage His grief, while life endureth. To see the changes of this age. That fleeting Time procureth ; For mony a place stands in hard case. Where blithe folk ken'd uae sorrow, With Homes that dwelt on Leader side, And Scots that dwell on Yarrow. Look out, brother Sportsmen, the morning is clear. And Phoebus o'er Hambleton hills does appear : Our sport is delighting, the day is inviting. Then away to the chase, to the chase without fear : Tho' Reynard may fly, his fate is to die, For we shrink from no danger before us ; To us, life's no trouble, and care is a bubble. When we follow the hounds in full chorus. VOCAL CABINET. 345 Tally ho ! my brave boys ; see he slackens his speed ; Strength failing him, he to his cunning takes heed : His art now forsakes him, see Dancer o'ertakes him. The hounds now seize on him, poor Reynard is dead. Tho' Reynard may fly, &c. Now home, my brave boys, and to Bacchus repair. And each give a toast to his favorite fair : Day and night is thus spent, in mirth, joy, and content. And may huntsmen for ever be strangers to care. Tho' Reynard may fly, &c. RECITATIVE. She paused— then, blushing, led the lay. To grace the stranger of the day ; Her mellow notes awhile prolong The cadence of the flowing song : Till to her lips, in measured frame, The minstrel verse spontaneous came. Huntsman rest ! AIR. Huntsman rest ! thy chase is done. While our slumberous spells assail ye. Dream not with the rising sun. Bugles here shall sound reveillie. Huntsman rest ! Sleep ! oh sleep ! the deer is in his den, Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying. Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen, How thy gallant steed lay dying. Huntsman rest ! 346 THE SPORTSMAN'S Huntsman rest ! thy chase is done. Think not of the rising sun ; For at dawning to assail ye, Here no bugles sound reveillie. Huntsman rest! The lambs they are feeding on lonely Skill-moor, And the breezes blow softly o'er dark Siraonside ; The birds they are lilting in ev'ry green bower, And the streams of the Coquet now merrily glide. 'I'he primrose is blooming at Halystane Well, And the buds on the saugh, and the •bonny birk tree ; The moorcocks are calling round Harbottle-fell, And the snaw wreaths are gane frae the Cheviot sae hie. The mist's on the mountain, the dew's on the spray. And the lassie has kilted her coats to the knee ; The shepherd he's whistling o'er Barraburn brae. And the sunbeams are glintin far over the sea ; Then we'll off to the Coquet, with hook, hair, and heckle, With our neat taper gads, and our well-belted creels, And far from the bustle and din of Newcastle, Begin the campaign at the streams of O'Linn-shicls. The Nimrod may brag of his horns and his hounds, . ' And of leaping o'er hedges and ditches may rave ; But what's all their clamour, their rides, and their rounds, Compar'd with the murmur of Coquet's clear wave ? VOCAL CABINET. 347 And Ramrod may crack of his pointer so staunch, And may tramp till he's weary o'er stubble and lea ; But M-hafs all the fun of the dog and the gun, Compared with the " Lang rod,' audlthrowing the fleer- More big of our conquests than great Alexander, Well rise to our sport with the mornings first beam ; Our creel shall grow heavier as onward we wander, And levy large tribute from pool and from stream. We'll plunder the deeps ; and the shallows we'll tax well Till Sharperton, Hepple, and Thropton are past ; We'll halt near the Thrum for a dinner with iVIaxwell, But land at our old home of Weldon at last. Now Crag-end is past, and now Brinkburn is nearest. Now the green braes of Tod-stead, the pride of the Vale, Then, hey i for famed Weldon, to anglers the dearest, Old Weldon, whose cellars and streams never fail ; There we' 11 talk of our triumphs, and boast of our slaughter. How " we hook'd him, and playd him, and kill'd him so fine ;" And the battle so gloriously finish'd in water. Again and again we'll fight over in wine. Here's good luck to the gad, and success to each friend on't; If e'er pray'r of mine can have interest above. May they run their line smoothly, nor soon see an end on't, And their course be as clear as the streams that they love '. 348 THE SPORTSMAN'S May the current of life still spread glitt'ring before them, And their joys ever rise as the season draws nigh ; And if e'er, as 'twill happen, misfortune comes o'er them, Oh ! still may her dart fall as light as their fly. To Ealing's fam'd Hat we crack shots all invite, Whom the joys of the trigger and bottle delight ; Choice treasures of Bacchus shall steel ev'ry nerve. And the chaste Doves of Venus rare sport for us serve. In vain shall the Cj'prian bird try to shun The wide spreading death of our percussion gun. CHORUS. Blaze away, roar away— let all thunder away. Let us drink to the joys of each grand Medal Day. Flint and steel with keen sportsmen has now had its day. Percussion's a race-horse, flint slow as a dray ; The chair's horse-percussion, by Mortimer got, Was beat to a stand-still, though fiery and hot : These high-breds of mettle for age carry weight— These deep-laden jockies run off with the plate. Blaze away, &c. &c. All chances of honour last year our Vice lost. The smith-horse, unsound, ne'er appeared at the post Though strange it may seem, though it staggers belief. When his sinews gave way he was eating boil'd beef* • • He cut the tendon of his thumb while doing the honors of the table. VOCAL CABINET. 349 From Princes-street stud some good runners appear, Tho' seldom a colt tlie best produce of year. Blaze away, &c. &c. Of half a score horses, some fast and some slow. The famed Detonator most blood seemed to shew ; The swift Cambrian horse did all others outvie, From Mortimer's stable gave all the go-by ; The foe by five lengths * the great Lewis o'ercame, Plinlimmon and Snowden re-echo his name. Blaze away, &c. &c. A white-maned courser, true mettle and fire. The knowing ones haiVd as the Old Hats Club's sire. Well mounted by Gully, at percussion's rate. Rode the glorious founder of Ealing's gold plate ; With cups at Newmarket his medal shall class. And his name and his fame to posterity pass. Blaze away, &c. &c. Hark ! the sweet horn proclaims afar. Against the stag the mimic war ; While future heroes' hearts rebound. And pant to hear the trumpet sound. The warlike genius of our isle. Who on the hunter deigns to smile. In echoes gives the chase applause. Which strings the nerve for glory's cause • Five Pigeons. 2 H SSO THE SPORTSMAN'S Where'er the devious chase may bend, Still Freedom shall our steps attend ; And bid us, as her pleasure rise, Defend the blessings which we prize. The moonbeam with silver tipt night's sombre car The air was unruffled — the landscape was still ; Unclouded the aspect of ev'ry clear star. And dew-gems bespangled the valley and hill — When a hound, more sagacious than most of his train. Whom, next morn, his stern keeper had destin'd to die ; To the Chase's bright Goddess was heard to complain. As she journey'd along the smooth brow of the sky — O, Diana! if still to thy bosom be dear Those sports that enliven the woodlands at morn — If still thou presid'st over hunting's career, And delight in the music of hound and of horn — Interpose, gentle Goddess 1 thy powerful aid. From utter extinction thy fav'rites to save ; Dire taxation on us has his harpy claw laid. And avarice doom'd half our race to the grave ! Already the work of destruction's begun ; It would thrill thy chaste bosom with horror to see What havoc amongst us is made by the gun — What numbers are strangled each day on a tree ! VOCAL CABINET. 351 Even he, whose faint voice howls this pitiful prayr, Is to-morrow condemn" d to the hemp's fatal knot ; No remonstrance prevail, the sad victim to spare. Past merit, past services, all are forgot ! Prowling hares their full liberty now may enjoy. To maraud in the gardens, consume the young crop ; Fell foxes securely the poultry destroy. For no hound will be left soon their progress to stop. O ! short-sighted policy, cruel as vain ! That sought, by our ruin, the rev'nue to raise : But statesmen are callous, and heed not the pain Of unfortunate dogs, in these tax-laying days. We are Archers so stout and so good ; With hearts unacquainted with fear, We live in the merry green wood. And feed on the King's fallow-deer. We feed on the King's fallow-deer. In spite of the sheriff or law ; We ne'er from the poor draw a tear. But keep monks and fat abbots in awe. And so merry, so merry live we ; With hearts light as air, We are strangers to care, All under the greenwood tree.'^ For Archery England is fam'd ; Expert are her sons at the bow ; Their broad arrows often have tam'd The rude insults and vaunts of the foe. 352 THE SPORTSMAN'S But England itself can't excel. For valour and good archery. Bold Clym o' the Clough, Adam Bell, And William of Cloudeslee, And so merry, &c. &c. Oh ! hail, ever hail, the first day of September, For then we resume the foir sports of the field ; Whilst memory lasts, shall I ever remember. The joys which I've felt from the pleasures they yield. Oft sleepless the night I have pass'd, ere the dawn Slow waking illumin'd some favourite spot ; Wliere 1 anxiously waited the full-blushing morn. And fearful lest others should get the first shot. With my dogs in submissive restraint by my side. Those faithful companions for hill, dale, or M'ood ; The lingering twilight, their looks seem'd to chide. Impatient to range where they oftentimes stood. Let indolent dreamers still press the soft bed. From the fetters of sloth may I ever be free ; But with spirits elastic, devote the brisk tread, Enraptur'd, Sol's earliest blushes to see. Tis then the fresh breeze with new life 111 inhale, As light, and with ardour, the game I pursue. O'er each bending sweep, braky copse, or deep vale. Where frequent the scene changes lovely to view. VOCAL CABINET. 363 We three Archers be, Rangers that rove tliroughout the north country. Lovers of ven'son and liberty, That value not honours or money. We three good fellows be, That never yet ran from three times three. Quarter staff, broadsword, or bowmanry, But give us fair play for our money. We three merry men be. At a lass or a glass under greenwood tree, ^ll.'. Jocundly chaunting oar auucient glee, Though we have not a penny of money. The gay huntsman no sooner awakes in the morn. And perceives that the day-star appears ; Than he hastily rises, and fills the shrill horn. And the sportsmen and hounds with the tally-ho cheers. Off we ride to the copse where sly Reynard secure. Peeps and laughs at uncoupling the hounds ; Now releas'd, the staunch dogs soon discover his lure, And the wood with their music resounds. CHORUS. Thus the charms of the chase fill each breast with delight. Whilst the exercise, vigour and health brings along : And in vain would the lazy profaners of light. Of the fair in reviling it fill up the throng. 2 u 2 354 THE SPORTSMAN'S For a while all our eiforts he baffles and scorns. To submit to his increasing fears ; But at length close pursued by the hounds and the horns. Whilst the huntsman our hearts with the tally-ho cheers. O'er the meadows, and pastures, and woodlands he flies. Sometimes stops, sits, and pricks up his ears. Then continues his route, and our ardour defies, And each obstacle cheerfully clears. Thus the charms of the chase, &c. O'er hedges and ditches, oer barriers and walls, Ev'ry sportsman his course gaily steers : If, by chance, or bad horsemanship, one of us falls. The kind huntsman his heart with the tally-ho cheers ; All his rivals outstript, he repairs his disgrace. And enjoys a new spring of delight ; When he first sees the fox hang his brush with slow pace, And the hounds press along in full sight. Thus the charms of the chase, &c. Now the sport at an end, with our appetites keen. At the board we forget all our cares, Drink long life and success to our Monarch and Queen, Whilst the huntsman our hearts with the tally-ho cheers. Then to bed to our wives as good husbands we go. Let themselves, if they will, tell the rest : Yet they'll own 'tis a debt, that to justice they owe. Of all husbands that sportsmen are best. Thus the charms of the chase, &c. VOCAL CABINET. 335 Ye sportsmen blithe, come leave the town For vernal recreation : To Vecta's pleasant Isle come down. Let Newport be your station. A brace of spaniels bring along, A gun with open centre ; True patent shot, and powder strong. Or else you'll lose your venture. If Phoebus paints the morning fair. While blossom decks the woodbine ; The glitfring sea, and sav'ry air, Sh?.ll be to you a good sign. Trip o'er the downs, a way well known. Fresh water cliffs before you ; Your best pursuit, if you're alone," Is let a sup restore you. You'll see the tavern-house below. There's ev'ry accommodation, To please the Citor splendid Beau, From every court or nation. Without deceit, youre sure to find. To gratify your pleasure. Some pretty maids, a landlord kind, And cheerful beyond measure. 356 ' THE SPORTSMAN'S There's godlike quiet day and night. His charges are in reason : To aid the sportsman's his delight Throughout the shooting season. Of well-built boats he owns a store, And skilful hands to guide thera : To please their guests with sail or oar, Lest danger should betide them. I Embark with these, if Neptune's kind, They'll steer you down the channel ; Don't leave your fowling-piece behind. Nor yet your water spaniel. And thus equipp'd your joys increase, Your boatman will direct you ; Discharge your first unshotted piece, Let nothing now deject you. Your thundering noise shall wake the rocks, -»" From cliff to cliff shall rattle ; ^ . Swift out shall fly the Puffin flocks. And echo round shall prattle. / ^ 'Tis now the time by Fate allow'd To fill your mind with wonder. The birds shall spread a darkling- cloud, And fall before your thunder- Your spaniels, if they're rightly train'd, Shall leap from out your wherry ; And bring the conquest you have gain'd, To make their master merry. VOCAL CABINET. 357 Now sporting has no more to claim. And time with pleasure suitintf ; Go seek the shore from whence you came, And sing of Puffin shooting. Hark ! hark ! the huntsman sounds his horn. Let's tipple away the rosy morn, ton, ton, ton. We'll hunt the bottle from sun to sun, And halloo the glasses the course to run. Ton, ton, &c. Each merry young toper a huntsman shall be, And instead of a ^reen, wear a red liv'ry, ton, ton, &c. We'll scorn their bows, their arrows, and guns. We'll hunt with long pipes, and ride upon tuns. Ton, ton, &c. We'll charge with tobacco, and follow the cry, 'Till failing of speed, the bottle shall die, ton, ton, &c. And then for a horn make use of a bell. Whose clangour shall rouse him, and make him run well. Ton, ton, &c. When thus reviv'd well merrily sing. And joining in chorus make the woods ring, ton, ton, &c Our game we'll eagerly pursue, Our glasses filling, our cause renew. Ton, ton, &c. 358 THE SPORTSMAN'S Our song shall reach the distant plain, And echo shall summon the weary swain, ton, ton, &c. The welcome sport he gladly hears, His toil and labour no more fears. Ton, ton, &c. A pipe he takes and charges high, And after the bottle does nimbly fly, ton, ton, &c. At length, with equal force and speed. He makes the generous victim bleed. Ton, ton, &c. As through the wound the blood does pass. He boldly ventures to fill his glass, ton, ton, &c. Nor fears to taste the flowing gore. But hunting and drinking, still hunts for more. Ton, ton, &c. >■ Then fill your glasses merrily round. Since thus supplied with hare and hound, ton, ton, &c. While cheerful Bacchus leads us on. We'll follow in chorus with sprightly ton, ton, ton. This fine-looking morn, which the fields do adorn. Is enliven'd and rous'd by the sound of the horn ; i Then sportsmen make haste, to cover let's away, And taste of the gay sports of hunting to-day. And taste, &c. Mount your high-mettled steeds, for the pastime prepare. And in chasing the Fox we shall snufF the fresh air ; VOCAL CABINET. 359 Let the bucks of the great town their pleasure pursue, We bucks of the field, other game have in view. We bucks, &c. Lord Lonsdale's fleet hounds, which are known to be good , Are echoing their musical notes through the wood ; Sly Reynard much fears thera, and dreads to depart, For conscious he is they will soon break his heart. For conscious, &c. Hark ! Ringwood and Towlcr, two very good hounds, They're brushing him out, how sweet their note sounds ; Let the Bang-up's of London, their pleasure pursue, We Fox-hunters here, other game have in view. We Fox-hunters, &c. " He's off, gone away," the huntsman loud cries, " Smack, twang goes his whip, and o'er hedges he flies ; Follow, follow, ray nobles, let's leave the rough train Of the fence-breaking sportsmen, to gaze on the plain. , Of the fence-breaking, &c. O'er hills and o'er dales, how delightful we go, When running the Fox, with " Hark forward, tally-ho ;" Let the full bloods of Bond-street, their pastime pursue. We bloods of the field other game have in view. We bloods, &c. A chase of four hours with very strong scent. At three quarters speed, so dashing we went ; 360 THE SPORTSMAN'S 'Till old Ren, being pressed, and quite out of breath. He turn'd, and the hounds fought to save him from death. He turn'd, &c. View the field at this moment, with hunters adorn'd. Hark ! hark ! from yon wood the sweet sound of the horn : Let the bucks who delight in such heavenly sport, To the sweet vill of Cottesmore for hunting resort. To the sweet, &c. Then pastime like this, who can but admire, Actaeon would say, such the Gods might inspire ; For of all the delights to pass away time. There is nothing like hunting women, and wine. Tliere is nothing, &c. With these and of health, be the blessings we boast. And at night o'er our glass, we'll give as a toast — May each buck whose taste does to hunting extend, Ne'er want a good horse, a bottle, or friend. Ne'er want, &c. The sun has arisen, love, Anna, my dear ! The horn of the hunter sounds merry and clear ; The mists of the night are dispersed far and near. And all to enrapture thee, Anna, my dear ! Then awaken, awaken thee, Anna, my dear! The hounds are at fault till their mistress appear Swift Mirzais saddled, to banish all fear. Then hasten, O, hasten thee, Anna, my dear ! VOCAL CABINET. 361 The roebuck is starting, love, Anna, my dear 1 The light of his eye is bedimm'd with a tear ; O, rise, and thy lover is waiting thee here. To join in the gallant chase, Anna, my dear. When budding leaves, in early spring, On many a tree are seen ; When first, on many a fairy ring. The grass grows fresh and green. A band of youthful Archers wend Their way to Greenwood side. In sport their twanging bows to bend, Toxophilus their guide. A feather' d crest, with liglitsome play Above, his bonnet graces : Below, the buskin's neat array His well-shaped leg embraces. Gold buttons on a grass-green vest. Arranged along the border. With cypher'd characters imprest, Aptly denote his order. Down the right side his arrows, see, Couch'd in a belted sling ; The shafts, with marks clear pointed, three Good stiif goose-feathers wing. His left hand grasps a bow of yew. With ribands gaily streaming ; Clorinda, for her Robin true, Tied them in comely seemin"?. 2 I 362 THE SPORTSMAN'S Apparel'd thus, from head to heel, In uniform complete ; All muster, trim, and warm with zeal, Address them for the feat. The bugle sounds, each takes his stand In order at the end : Their arrows nock'd, with steady hand Successively they bend. Toxophilus'a well-drawn shaft,^ Clean loosen'd, to the centre Onward its guiding feathers waft : And now he views it enter Right, where the midmost beamy round Of gold his eye invited : Hark ! at the stroke's responsive sound, How is his ear delighted ! His fellow-bowmen, crowding near, Admire their captain's skill ; And all, with many a hearty cheer, Hail him their captain still. Invested with the victor's claim. The medal, thus rewarding His titled honours, and his name The silver shaft recording. Behold him lead his social train To yonder oak-tree bow'r. Where feasting, oft they chaunt the strain, And close their festive hour. VOCAL CABINET. 363 The 8UU had just peep'd his head over the hills. While the plough-boy he whistles across the gay fields, And the birds they are singing so sweet on each spray. While the huntsman says to his hounds, " Tally-ho, hark away !" CHORCS. Tally-ho ! hark away ! Tally-ho ! hark away ! Tally-ho, tally-ho, tally-ho ! hark away ! Come, come my brave sportsmen, and make no delay, Quick saddle your horses and let's brush away ; For the fox is in view, and is kindled with scorn. Come along, my brave sportsmen, and join the shrill horn. Tally-ho ! hark away, &c. He led us a chase more than fifty long miles. Over hedges and ditches, over gates and o'er stiles; Little David came up with his musical horn. We shall soon overtake him, for his brush drags along. Tally-ho ! hark away, &c, We followed the chase ; six hours in full cry. Tally-ho, hark away, for now he must die ; Now we'll cut off his brush M'ith a hallooing noise, And drink good success to all fox-hunting boys. Tally-ho ! hark away, &c. What pleasures wait the angler's life ! By streamlet side or brook I The while the fish incessant rise To take his Kirby hook : 3C4 THE SPORTSMAN'S His sober thouglits improve his mind, His cares are far astray ; Low pride and pomp he leaves behind To breathe the sweets of May. in cities there is noise and strife, And every ill to poison life. And wear its charms away. The courtier hunts for gold and place, Oft stoops beneath the man, And sometimes meets that sad disgrace \Miich checks his vital span ; Tlie while the angler, free from strife. Pursues a calm repose, And lengthens out his thread of life. And seldom meets with foes. In nature's smiles he takes a part. Her morning-beams delight his heart, And so does evening's close. The landscape deals him lessons rare. He marks the constant dove. Who shows him how his race to rear, And teaches peace and love ; No home-bred jars at eve to find, All smile at his return ; A prudent wife to xweet him kind. Intent his will to learn. Not so the wanton rake of state, He flees his home and slights his mate, 'Till both with hatred burn. VOCAL CABINET. 365 The bee that sips the vernal flow'rs. And bears their sweets away, Instructs him to improve his hours Against a rainy day ; The ant that toils the autumn through, To store her distant hill. Inspires his thought witli projects new To ward off distant ill. The spendthrift no such prudence learns, But squanders all his parent earns. By prudence, care, and skill. Sweet Philomel, who, all day long. Can harmonise the spray, Instructs him to improve his song, And sing life's cares away ; The larks that mount to heav'ns high gate. His pleasing tale impart : Until we meet the stroke of fate. Go wear a cheerful heart ; Nor heed the dull fanatic thing. Whose errors often point the spring Of fraud, disguise, and art. The faithful dog that waits his side. Inspires this grateful thought : " Fidelity let fools deride, My dog is better taught ;" From him I learn to guard my right Against the world's design. To meet my friend with true delight. And cheer his drooping mind. 2 I 2 366 THE SPOKTb^MAN'S Since dogs can such instruction give Lets treat them friendly while we live, And cruelty decline. 7'hus fares the angler day by day Throughout the rolling year, While knaves, like rotten fruits, decay. Nor claim a pitying tear ; Then let us praise the angler's life. And thus in chorus sing : May anglers ever 'scape from strife, Nor feel oppression's sting. And may the lively girls they wed Ne'er dishonour board nor bed With peasant, prince, or king. While ere yet the bright Aurora Tints the hills with blush of morn ; While still droops the world of Flora, Ev'ry rose and dew-gem'd thorn. Hark ! the hunter's cheering halloo. Wakes young Echo with its sound ; She, prepar'd, his steps to follow. E'er will in his train be found. Youth and age, without repining. Eager rush into the plain : Love's and beauty's pow'r combining. Now display their charms in vain. VOCAL CABINEl . 367 Chaste Diana claims the morning. Urges then her speedy flight ; She, the laughing Venus scorning. Leaves to her the realm of night. Rous'd early by the cheerful horn. From the dull slumber of the night. The huntsmen, ere the op'ning morn, The stag pursue witli tim'rous flight. Thro' thickets, woods, and liills, they sweep, Ere yet the sun begins to beam ; Now swift thro' copse and dang'rous steep. Now cross, with shouts, the rapid stream. But see the purple east appear. The horn re-echoes thro' the vale ;'' The fainting stag, o'erwhelm'd with fear. Now feels his drooping spirit fail. Enraptur'd with the heat of chase, The sportsmen seize their panting prey ; In triumph close the joyous race. And bear their captive spoil away. Now eve brings softer scenes of joy. That glide as jocund as the morn ; 'Midst hours of love, which ne'er can cloy, The dangers of the day they scorn ; While in love's soft raptures blest. All their cares are luH'd to rest. S6S THE SPORTSMANS THE FALCONERS CALL. " With hawkes and hounde he made him bowne. With home and eke with bowe ; To Drayton-Besset took his waje. With all his lordes arowe." Old Billid, Go hood my gos and my tassel hawk,* And call ye my lady bright ; For the morn is fair, and high in air The ptarmigan takes his flight. And we'll away, on our bonny steeds, To lakes where the herons lie ; There in tlie pride of the olden tide. Our gay tercel birds to fly. Through seas of cloud, like a vessel chas'd. The rous'd-up prey will sail. Whilst — an arrow's flight, a flash of light. Or sudden as rattling hail — Our crested hawks shall pounce in their pride Upon that now devoted thing. And, midst huntsmen's calls, the quarry falls. With pierced breast and bruised wing. • Gos and tassel were the two principal hawks used in fal- conry ; they were formerly held in much estimation, and brought great prices. At the commencement of the seventeenth century, two were sold for one hundred marks ; " and in the reign of James the First, (we are told,) Sir Thomas Morrison is said to have given a thousand pounds for a cast, that is, a pair of hawks." VOCAL CABINET. 369 Oh, ours is sport the Saxon lov'd,* And which monarchs joy'd to see ; Gay green woods, brown fields, rejoicing yield, For the falconer's couipauj'. Let the liunter wind his merry horn, And the fowler ply his art. And the fisher dream of rippling stream. And the bowman fit his dart ; Yet, give the falconer Edward's days,'^ When the hazarde prey-birds flew O'er those proud lands his warrior bands Had so nobly dar'd subdue. Then hood my gos and my tassel hawk. And call my lady briglit. For the morn is fair, and high in air The ptarmigan takes his flight. When Turriff coursing club appeard, Buchan was grac'd with many laird ; A pleasant, grand, heroic train. Fine equipage, grand livery-men. * Falconry was so highly esteemed by the Anglo-Saxon nobility, that the training and flying of hawks became one of the essentials in the education of a young man of rank. t Edward the Third, when he invaded France, had with him thirty falconers on horseback, and every day he indulged either in the sport of hunting or hawking. — Percy Ane:dotes. 370 THE SPORTSMAN'S What glorious sight appear'd, these gentry, When all arriv'd at Pitfours entry. So chieftain-like, with all their trains. To conrse broad Buchan's hills and plains. The parlianienter was so kin'. Invited them frequent to dine ; Was so delighted with their sport, To see some chases did resort. Their rendezvous was Noble's Inn, Where civil treatment is therein ; Which suited well our sporting gentry. With good things cheap, and very plenty. Swift hounds from Huntly, Buchan, Tweed," And hounds that Scotland never bred ; Eight famous hounds as ever ran. Were match'd three days a prize to win. Three days were spent in this contest, But Troup's Claret outran the best ; Three English miles last chase extended. The fierce antagonist she confounded. Judges who view'd the second day's run, Laid bets that Beauty would have won ; Yet a mile or the chase was ended. Judges affirmed it, tho' Claret gain'd it. 'J'hese silver couples thou shalt wear, Thou'st gain'd with blood, and wounds severe ; VOCAL CABINET. 371 Like best of warriors would not yield, Would die rather than lose the field. That night we cheer'd, danc'd without rest, And generous Troup slok'd a' our thirst ; Hold up your head, victorious lady, Get on, your honour's gain'd and ready. These silver links, twa silver collars. Are valu'd at thirty-twa dollars ; Well does those set you, look not down. But cock your lugs out o'er your crowu. Twice ten ell ribbons you hae got. With colours chang'd, like Joseph's coat, Wov'd all around you ilka bit, Tess'I'd and knotted, like a net. Look up, be proud, you're bra' and fine, No, you seem rather to decline ; Oh ! were some ladies half as humble. And you, some less ambitious ramble. For gaudy, and for rich array. Their lords would have some less to pay ; But rU this remark by-by, And lecture ont some other day. Long life to Troup's victorious Claret, Let all true sportsmen wish that hear it. 372 THE SPORTSMAN'S To crown the pleasures of that night Gentry purposed a cock-fight ; Game cocks were brought, of the best sort, AV hich proved entertaining sport. The bloody fighters fought so hot, Many lay dead upon the spot ; The feathers flew fi'om off their crowns. That Noble's rooms were soft with down. These cocks had all sharp spurs by nature. Yet, artificial, some thought better ; Fix'd silver spurs behind the heel. And artfully did them conceal. Those who had their cocks legs a' bare. When known, complain'd, it M'as not fair ; For private arms there is no law. But fair in sight, and harness'd a\ No spear, nor spur, fix'd to the hive, The fairest fight's the naked nieve ; To hail the king, the queen, the knave. The gentry three half euineas gave. I WILL give you a song, if that's all that you crave, May I die if I don't do my best ; But. believe me, no notion have I of a stave. Nor am I with melody blest : VOCAL CABINET. 373 Yet, among jolly stag-hunters, 111 never be The first to make merriment flag : So, while I have breath, and you call upon me, I'll sing " Hurra! for hunting the stag!"" And of all the fine stag-hounds of which I could sing. The Berkeley's the pack for the sport ; They are not " The King's," but they're fit for a King, And they often run nearer to Court. See foremost, in yellow, bright, brig-hter than gold, Rides Gr — tl — y, the pride of the race ! With M — t— n, and fifty fine fellows as bold, As e'er knew the joys of the chase. When the hounds are laid on, oh ! ye gods, what a crash, What bruisiug and pouudiug is here ! See L e, for a start, like a meteor dash. Or a Heaven-shot star from its sphere ; Lord B — d — 11, John L r, and Ch — ch — r's Earl, Go charging the Yedden amain. Bold John gets a ducking, the Peer gets a purl. But they're up, on, and at it again. Next W— b— 11, and P— k — r, and all the light weights. Thro' the deep go the deuce of a pace ; But where'er the stag's taken, you'll see Major B u Is sure to be found in his place. Hold hard ! give 'em time ! now again you may ride. Each resolving alike to be first ; Tho' sixty score seconds your mettle have tried, Without any check to the burst. 374 THE SPORTSMAN'S Now away on to Harrow they flew like the wind. Hark ! Gr — tl — y, he cheers them along ; How the out-of-condition are lagging behind ; 'I'o tlie road, the M'Adamites throng. But the few, chosen few, of the genuine sort Are enjoying the best of it all : Tho' the fences are stiff, they but add to the sport, For who cares a d— n for a fall ! Sure, he cannot hold long — he's beginning to fail — Tliey are close at his haunches — 'tis o'er : No, he swims the canal, and he tops the park pale. He will run for this half hour or more ; And the pack, pressing on, are pursuing him still, With such desperate bottom and pluck. That Gr — tl — y rides harder, from fear they should kill, Ere he rescues this wonderful buck. Wlien he's.taken, they cry, in their extacy mad, " Why should we to Leicestershire roam, " W hen from Cranford a run such as this can be had, " Without going fartlier from home?" Long, long of such runs may the Berkeley Hunt boast ! Of such sport may they long live to brag ! So I'll fill a bumper, and give you a toast — " The Berkeleys," and " Hunting the Stag !" THE COLLEGE YOUTHS. Ting! ting! hark! I hear the call-bell ; 'Tis music divine to my ears ; It cries, " College Youths, take a spell" — I tumble o'er tables and chairs : VOCAL CABINET. 375 My wife thinks ine crazy or mad, And roars " Poh ! you fool, what's the matter ?" Says I, " Pray, dear Ma'am, stow your gab, i Our bells shall make merrier clatter." ;. CHORUS. Then haste, CoUeg-e Youths, haste away ! We'll gallantly peal it to-day. Now oif to the belfry Me post, And tumble in one after t'other ; Until we assemble —a host — Staunch pullers of bell-ropes together. But having, like lads of true mettle. Made the very best use of our shoes, Ere each to his fav'rite bell settle, To breathe, we first ask " What's the news?'" Spoken. — Why, replies the Sexton, a bottle-nosed toper of the old school — " There are glorious news arrived in town to-day." * CHORUS. So strip without further delay. We'll merrily hail this bright day. Now off fly the clothes from each back. The Ringers are rang'd rank and file, Feu-de-joie we give in a crack, ' And fire off the bells in grand style ; Tlirice three rounds we steadily fire. Like veterans panting for fame. Then treble leads oft' the grandsire. And we merrily keep up the game. * Here the words may be suited to any joyful occasion of the meeting. 37G THE SPORTSMAN'S CHORUS. Pull, pull, College Youths, pull away, We"ll jovially peal it to-day. If honest Mat. Hale's * ghost stood by To hear how we merrily chim'd it, " Ye're true College Youths !'" he would cry — •So in tune and so justly we tiin'd it : All stood to their ropes — not a flincher — Xo stroke miss'd — all true to a tittle — "Till we'd given the grandsire a clincher, And prov'd ourselves lads of bell-metal. CHORUS. Xor e'er brighter boys came in play Than gallantly peal'd it to-day. Now, having supported our fame, In England none truer or better — And prov'd ourselves cocks of the game. To the Nine Bells + we steer for a whetter : There having recruited our strength With a supper of nice boil and roast, Fill'd pipes of the Alderman length, We call on the Chair for a Toast. + Mr. President speaks. — Gentlemen, Ml give " May Old Kughind never want a glorious occasion to set her bells a ringing !'' * Sir Matthew Hale, the great, good, and learned Lord Chief Justice of the Court of King's Bench, was, in the earlier part of his life, a Member of the ancient and honourable Society of College of Youths. t The sign of a public-house. X Any toast may be given, suited to the occasion of the Meeting. VOCAL CABINET. S77 CHORUS. Hurra ! boys, huzza ! blithe as May We'll ring for Old England each day. When Spring-tide brings in the new May-morn, And blossoms peer from ev'ry tree ; Sweet in the vale rings the mellow-toned horn, To hasten the Bowmen o'er the Lea. Each with his pretty lass Hies him fleetly. Footing it featly Down the dell — Tripping it, Skipping it. Blithe and bonny— while jug, jug, jug Sings little Philomel. -»o'=' In Summer time, with handbows strong, How gay the roving down the glade ; What sport wliile yet the leaves are long, At butts beneath the greenwood shade. Each with his pretty lass Trims him neatly. Shooting it featly Down the dell. Twanging it. Clanging it, Blithe and bonny— still jug, jug, jug, Sings little Philomel. 2 K 2 37 S THE SPORTSMAN'S These pastimes glad each noontide hour, Till Autumn gilds the falling leaf; Then hey for the haunch in the festive bow"r, Which the Friar blesses — wisely brief. Each by his pretty lass Seats him duly, Whisp'ring truly In her ear. Wooing to her. Cooing to her. Blithe and bonny— with a sly hob-nob. As he fills to his Dear- And still when wintry snow-drops fall In silver shower on wood and vale : Oh ! the Christmas gambols then in the hall. The dance, the song, the glee prevail. Each with his pretty lass Carols it sweetly. Or foots it featly To the strain : Flaunting it, Chaunting it. Blithe and bonny — while the harp's tang-, tang Thrill, every vein. In sportive round, without a sigh, A Bowman varies thus the scene. Smooth as his shafts the seasons fly : His mark — Contentment's golden mean. Still with his pretty lass Revelling gaily. Pastimes daily VOCAL CABINET. 379 His spirits cheer. Clouds disappear. While sporting with his Dear, For her smiles brings sunshine all the year. SLOW MARCH INTRODUCTION. Let our troops and our tars, Meet the rage of the wars, Fought on Portugal's coast and in Spain. Let the tyrant of France, With his blood-hounds advance. Still to prey on each peaceful domain. But brave Wellington's near. To check their career. Well appointed to combat the foe : Like him Ave'll pursue. With our victims in view. And the hills shall re-echo— Soho ! QUICK MOVEMENT. 'Tis for exercise, air. That we course the fleet hare. Rosy health fancied ailments derides : As 'tis readily granted. No physic is wanted. Where strong convalescence presides. To the fields then away, Tis a fine coursing day, And each steed feels a wish to be gone ; 380 THE SPORTSMAN'S But precaution's of use. Try your girths if too loose. And his shoes if they're well fastened on. Puss springs from her seat, And now you've a treat. She runs in a capital style ; But 1 beg, my dear Bobby,* Do keep in your hobby. Give her law, and she'll hold it a mile. I'll bet, if you're willing. Ten pounds to a shilling. Says Pett'ner, she'll make for the wood ; Cries Wilson, they'll turn her ; 1 plainly discern her. She's now very closely pursu'd. Historians have told, 'Twas from Nimrod of old, That hunters their pedigree trace ; But what is their fame To the title we claim, Adam Eve here unites in the chase."^ No topic prevails But who's luck, and who fails. From some fav'rite bitch whence he breeds * Robinson, a famous Courser. t Secretary and Treasurer of the Meeting. VOCAL CABINET. 3S1 Wliile Puss, in the stubbles, By well-contrived doubles, The sleek uiinble greyhounds misleads. But her speed now increasing, The contest is ceasing, And soon she gets lost under cover : By the groom's coupling hand. Each dog at a stand, A signal the first course is over. MARCH.— FINALE. Since our pleasure's to course. We derive from that source. Which our gen'rous friend Cliaplin supports ; As we course o'er his ground, We're by gratitude bound. To hope he will long join our sports. QUICK MOVEMENT. Then fill up each glass, That a bumper may pass. As the INhise by these presents greeting ; And enjoins us to say. Let the toast of the day, Be, " Success to Louth new Coursing Meeting." CANTATA. From slumbers rise, for see the peeping morn. And hark ! the huntsman sounds the enliv'ning horn ; The trailing hounds soon brush the pearly dew : To horse, to horse, the game soon bursts to view. 2S2 THE SPORTSMAN'S 4 The wily Fox the cover breaks, Away in terror flies. See, see o'er yonder lawn he takes On, on with shouts, with shouts and cries. O'er desperate mounds, o'er rapid floods. And hills he bears along. Nor streams, nor cliffs, nor deep'ning woods. Can check the jovial throng. Toil strings our nerves, and warms the face, We leave dull spleen behind ; Health bids us urge the mad'ning chase, In speed outstrip the wind. Thus far and wide we boldly roam, The midnight thief to slay ; We bear our well-earn'd trophies home, In mirth we close the day. When the sun is shining low. From our easy sport we go,'' Our kettle full offish ; And, having thought the golden day, Through the meads we take our way. In haste to dress our dish. Whether it barbel be, or pike, Or trout or silver eel belike. Or perch, or grayling free ; Or bream, or carp, or tench, or bleak, Or gudgeons, that in fords we seek. Or roach, or dace it be. VOCAL CABINET. 3S3 A cup well stirr'd with rosemary, A health, to Madge too, pledged free, A song of harmless love, Sheets neatly kept in lavender. May each day of the calendar These simple blessings prove. Before the fire we sit, and sing, Content and happy as a King, When winds of Autumn blow, Employ'd upon our gentle themes, 'Till Spring unbend the frozen streams, And then to fish we go ; With morn unto the dewy meads, V/here the herd contented feeds. Tracing our steps again : What fortune can be like to this ! Then let the wise partake our bliss, Th' unwise at Courts remain. When thro' the woods the hunters trace The nimble hart, or hare, Fond echo joins the noble chase, Aud vocal makes the air. The op'ning hounds the game pursue, And brush away the morning dew. 384 THE SPORTSMAN'S From hills and dales the cries resound, While mellow sounds the horn ; Each varied prospect smiles around, And rapture cheers the morn. The opening hounds the game pursue. And brush away the sparkling dew. At length o'erta'en, the trembling prey Its speed no longer tries ; Fear all his courage takes away, And soon the victim dies. The hunters then the bowl pursue. And all their songs of joy renew. Farewell J ye house of Aberdour, Adieu ! ye gentles all ; Farewell to all ray neighbours dear. That meet into the hall. With you I many evenings shar'd, In harmless mirth and glee, Makcs-me regret that we should part Into such destiny. The heathy hills of Aberdour They are both long and wide ; Great pleasure is for sportsmen there. As niuir fowls much reside. VOCAL CABINET. 385 The Kettrine Wells, I much think on. Where we oft drank and dine ; Let the game rest, broke coveys meet, Till we drink gin and wine. At Lammas tide, sweet summer's pride, AVhen sportsmen^crown the hill ; With dogs all right, and armour bright, We met them with good will. My master* was a marksman grand, As ever fir'd ou hill. Like Clously's arrows for his life His aims were sure to kill. When Sol had turn'd his light about. And day began to gloam ; All tir'd with pleasure, load with game, We steer'd our course for home. When supp'd, vaunts of victorious sport. The evenings sweetly pass ; To please the maids, who could refuse. To dance with every lass. Post fast about Apollo's steeds. Glide fast the world o'er, Bring a" our gentry back again In state to Aberdour. • J. Cumine, Esq. of Banff, whose gamekeeper, J. Christie, wrote this song. 21 386 THE SPORTSMAN'S Ye grandest schools and seminaries. The youths make graceful, bold ; That they may soon come back again Like pearls when set in gold. Ye volunteers of Aberdour You're glorious to be seen. Defend your king, and country well, With hearts both stout and keen ; 'Till combined foes with Bonaparte, His serpent pride bruis'd down ; Your God and arms shall humble them. For all his Pope-set crown. The op'ning morn dispels the night, Her beauties to display. The sun breaks forth in glory bright, And hails the new-born day. Diana like, behold me then The silver arrow wield, And call on horses, hounds, and men, Arise, and take the field. With a heigldio chevy I Hark forward, hark forward tantivy! Arise, bold hunters, cheerly rise, This day a stag must die. This day a stag must die. O'er mountains, vallies, hills, and dales. The fleet-foot coursers fly ; Nor heed whate'er tlie sport assails, Resolv'd a stag must die : VOCAL CABINET. 38? Roads, trees, and hedges, seem to move, Such joys does lumting yield ; And health a handmaid deigns to prove. When huntsmen take the field. With a heigho, chevy, &c. Thus virgins are by man pursued. And beauty made liis aim. Till by his wily craft subdued. He hunts for other game : And since e'en life is but a race. We run, till forc'd to yield. Yo-ho ! tantivy ! join the chase. Arise and take the field. With a heigho, chevy, &c. Hark ! the goddess Diana Calls aloud for the chase ; Bright Phcebus awakens the morn ; Rouse ! rouse from your slumber. And for hunting prepare. For the huntsman is winding his horn. See ! the hounds are unkennell'd. And all ripe fur the chase. They start to overtake the fleet hare ; All danger they're scorning. And for hunting preparing. To the field, then, brave boys, let's repair. 388 THE SPORTSMAN'S Of all noble sport Used in country or court, For our health or our true delight. The wise have confessed That an archer's is best. As 'tis also the noblest sight ; He firmly does stand, And looks like a man, When the shaft strongly drawn does go : Drink away then, my boys. And, to heighten our joys. Sing in praise of the brave long bow. Britain's fathers did chuse, E'er daran'd guns were in use. With this weapon to end their frays ; Fam'd Agincourt Shews at this royal sport. How we conquer'd in Henry's days. The monsieur was mawl'd. And the English extoU'd, From the Thaities to the Gallic Seine, And were guns laid aside. And our archers were try'd. We are sure we could do it again. Health that we gain to our body and brain. To the world has been clearly shewn ; Who e'er can say. He that shoots ev'ry day, Has the strangury, gout, or the stone ? He firmly does stand. And looks like a man, VOCAL CABINET. 389 When the shaft strongly drawn does go : Drink away, then, my boys, And, to heighten our joys, Sing in praise of the brave long bow. What lots of gun patents, 'tis wondrous I ween,* We old jolly knights of the trigger have seen ; Patent pans, patent hammers, and waterproof locks, Patent breeches and touch-holes, and patent shap'd cocks. Derry down, down, derry down. Patent ribs, patent lips, patent barrels, with bore Of larg-e and small size, for each choice amateur ; With gravity catches, the sportsman's salvation. And many more catches that mock calculation. Derry down, down, derry down. Like a globe patent shot, that in spite of fate must, When impell'd by the force of Pigou's patent dust, Go straight to its object without deviation. And render death always a sure operation. Derry down, down, derry down. The'fire-proof flask that the powder contains. Defies all explosion or loss of your brains ; The self-filling shot-bag affords quicker fire— This principle all sporting men must admire. Derry down, down, derry down. • Sung by Mr. Dignum, at the Clarendon Hotel, April 16th, 1817, being the thirty-eighth Anniversary Dinner of the Old Hats Club. 2 l2 390 THE SPORTSMAN'S O'erloaded with patents of quackish invention, A cure for bad shots is tlieir honest intention ; But false to their purpose, they green-liorns entrap. And render them worthy a patent fool's cap. Derry down, down, derry down. The best of all patents in Lisle-street came out* For quickening the fire, and there's no one can doubt. But tire in Lisle-street some quickly hare ta'en — Though that fire, alas ! often causes much pain. Derry down, down, derry^down. Aurora appearing, in grey mantle drest. The loud cheering horn calls the huntsmen from rest ; Scarcely mounted, and ready to start they appear. When the halloo ! view halloo ! salutes the fond ear : Then, spurring their coursers, none rein in for breath, But each fondly hopes to be in at the death. And, anxiously keeping the leader in view. Thinks already he hears cried the fam'd death halloo ! Past success, hope inspiring, the sportsman ne'er yields To the swift-closing day, or the toil of the fields ; Yet now cunning Reynard oft doubles in vain, As panting he doubles the uplands again : The hounds, while he skulks, on him eagerly rush. And Steady, our old whipper-in, bears the brush ; Then the huntsmen, witli pleasure, their triumph review. And the air 's rent with shouting the fam'd death halloo j * Smith, the celebrated gun-maker, resided in this street ; but afterwards removed to Princes-street, Leicester Fields. VOCAL CABINET. 391 On thy banks, limpid Thames, as I stand To hook the keen glutton below, As the breeze flows refreshing and bland, I'm tempted ray hair-line to throw. Nor thy waters alone can delight ; The herbage, the landscape, appear To enrapture my wandering sight, As the music of birds charm the ear. If my cork, faithful friend, sinks below. At the bite of the barbel or bream. To see what thy clear currents bestow I draw up my prize from the stream. In the sunbeams he glitters, for liberty tries. But his efforts are vain, and he tires ; And, finding no way of escape to devise, In the pure open air he expires. Your heroes (I sing) round the world let them roam. Or for honour seek death in the field ; We anglers are happy, in quiet at home. With such sports as the rivulets yield. ^ At our humble pursuits let the casuist go frown. Our pastime 'tis mine to defend ; But not like the lawman, bred up in the town, To beggar the purse of a friend. 392 THE SPORTSMAN'S Such are our pleasures the summer's day long, While there's fish in the streamlets or brook ; In praise of the angler (let this be our song), Who delights in the line and the hook. Awake, hoys, awake ! is the huntsman's loud cry, Aurora's just risen, and Sol gilds the sky ; The young beams look bright on the cloud-breaking day. And the breath of the breeze calls the blithe hark away ! Our hounds and fleet steeds scent the fresh air of morn, As the dew-spangled drops die away on the thorn ; Not a bird far or near but is heard from the spray. To join in the call of the blithe hark away ! Oif, 'sportsmen, off, off! Little Wood-brusher sings. And taste of the pastime and pleasure of kings ; Bold Towler, staunch Ringwood, young Scentwell, and Tray, All join in the call of the blithe hark away ! The high grassy mountains peep through the grey mist. And the wood-pigeon dove calls her mate to be kiss'd ; All nature, sweet nature ! looks blooming and gay. And joins in the call of the blithe hark away ! Let dull plodding mortals, like slaves toil for wealth, Our boast and delight is the treasure of health ; Our uplands and lowlands right cheerful to stray. And join in the call of the blithe hark away ! VOCAL CABINET. 393 Ye sportsmen, whose joys are the charms of the field, AVhose courage, like Nimrod's, to nothing will yield ; On the lips of dear woman your love-kisses pay, And join in the call of the blithe hark away '. The sportsmen keep hawks, and their quarry they gain, Thus the woodcock, the partridge, the pheasant is slain. What care and expense for their hounds are employed ? Thus the fox, and the hare, and the stag are destroyed. Tlie spaniel they cherish, whose flattering way, Can, as well as their masters, cringe, fawn, and betray. Thus staunch politicians, look all the world round, Love the men who can serve as hawk, spaniel, or hound. The stag, when chas'd all the long day O'er the lawn, thro' the forest and brake ; Now panting for breath and at bay, Nov/ stemming the river or lake ; When the treacherous scent is all cold. And at eve he returns to his hind. Can her joy, can her pleasure be told ? Such joy and such pleasure 1 find. When Aurora is up, the sweet goddess of day. And Apollo from Thetis's breast. The fleet-footed hare steals swiftly away. And the sweet-thrilling lark leaves her nest : CHORUS. Then rise, my brave boys, to the health-giving chase, And hail the gay nymph of the morn ; No care in your breast sh;ill ever take place While you follow the sound of the horn. 394 THE SPORTSMAN'S Sure no sport on earth such a pleasure can yield. No joy to the chase can compare ; What prospect so bright as to view the gay field, Or taste of the sweet morning air. Then rise, my brave boys, &c. We thus spend our lives in a round of delight, While rapture beams bright in each eye ; Our fav'rites we toast, with bumpers at night. And thus fickle Fortune defy. Then rise, my brave boys, &c. Sound, sound the music, sound it, Let hills and dales rebound it. Let hills and dales rebound it. In praise of Archery. It's origin divine is, The practice brave and fine is. Which generously inclines us To guard our liberty. Art by the gods employed. By which heroes enjoyed. By which heroes enjoyed The wreaths of victory. The Deity of Parnassus, The god of soft caresses, Diana, and her lasses. Delight in Archery. VOCAL CABINET. 395 See, see yon bow extended ! 'Tis Jove himself that hends it, 'Tis Jove himself that bends it. O'er clouds on high it glows. All nations, Turks and Parthians, The Tartars and the Scytliians, The Arabs, JNloors, and Indians, With bravery draw their bows. Our own true records tell us That none cou'd e'er excel us, That none cou'd e'er excel us In martial Archery. With shafts our sires engaging, Oppos'd the Romans raging. Defeat the fierce Norwegian, And spared few Danes to flee. Witness the Largo and Loncartie, Dunkeld and Aberlemuo, Dunkeld and Aberlenino, Rosline and Bannockburn. The Cheviots, all the Border, Where bowmen in brave order. Told enemies, if further They mov'd, they'd ne'er return, Sound, sound the music, sound it. Let hills and dales rebound it, Let hills and dales rebound it In praise of Archery. 396 THE SPORTSMAN'S Us'd as a game it pleases, The iniiul to joy it raises, And throws off all diseases Of lazy luxury. Now, now our care beguiling. When all the year looks smiling, When all the year looks smiling. With healthful harmony. The sun in glory glowing, With morning dew bestowing Sweet fragrance, life, and growing, To flowers and every tree. 'Tis now the Archers royal, A hearty band and loyal, A hearty band and loyal, That in just thoughts agree. Appear in ancient bravery. Despising all base knavery. Which tends to bring in slavery, Souls worthy to live/ree. Sound, sound the music, sound it. Fill up the glass and round with it. Fill up the glass and round with it : ' Health and prosperity To our great chief and officers. To our president and councillors ; To all who, like their brave forbears. Delight in Archery. VOCAL CABINET. 397 Said Mary to Tom, (Who is apt to look ^luin, And rail at the world without reason or rhyme) - 'Tis strange that from home So far you could roam, And for one brace of cocks lose three days of your time. Nay, wife, Tom replied, You forget, ivhile you chide : If Tve gain'd little good, I have lost many evils — For on every hill, I ne'er fail to kill. Either running or flying, a brace vf blue devils ! Hark forward, my boys, tally-ho is the cry, Tantara ! tantara ! resounds the blithe horn ; The bright beams of Phcebus illumine the skj-, And sweet is the breath of the fresh-breaking morn. O'er hills and thro' vallies undaunted they rush, While swift-footed Reynard leads onward the foe ; But nought can avail him, the hounds scent his brush. Hark forward ! away to the sweet tally-ho ! Now bounding o'er mountains, now halting for breath, Tantara 1 tantara I he trembles with fear; Yet still, still eludes the staunch courser of death, And leaves the loud pack by his art in the rear. Away men and horses like Nimrods dash on. Regardless of danger, right daring they go ; Now, now they gain on him, now once more he's gone, Hark forward ! away to the sweet tally-ho ! 2 M 398 THE SPORTSMAN'S He struggles — pants— trembles — so closely he's run, Tantara ! tantara ! resounds to tlie sky ; In -ain by his cunning the staunch hounds would shun. The hounds burst upon him, poor Reynard must die ! Now flush'd with their conquest, the sportsmen return. And toast, in red bumpers, confusion to woe ! And since rosy health is each mortal's concern. Hark forward ! away to the sweet tally-ho I Now the finny brood united. O'er the buoyant liquid sweep. Or, lost in wanton sport, delighted. Plunge adown the azure steep. Yielding to the wily plan Of the jolly fisherman. Softly sweet the breeze is blowing, Wand'ring streamlets swell the flood. While with health and pleasure glowing. Jocund pastime yields us food ; Crowning gay the wily plau Of the jolly fisherman. When Aurora's sweet blushes enliven the morn. How sweet is the dawning of day ; Arise my brave boys while the dew on the thorn. Makes the meadows look cheerful and gay. How sweet o'er tlie hills is the merry-ton'd horn, As thro' forests and meadows we bound ; The hounds all in chorus make cheerful the morn, And with shouts make the welkin resound. VOCAL CABINET. 399 See the hounds are uncoupled, and jovial the cry, All eager to follow the chase ; To the sports of the morn no pastime can vie, Rosy health blooms with natural grace. How sweet o'er the hills, &c. The chase being o'er we return full of glee, When the sun-beams no longer adorn ; Sweet sleep doth befriend us, so happy are we. And wake to fresh sports in the morn. How sweet o'er the hills, &c. Come, ye sportsmen, lend an ear to These prime verses from my pen ; I, who always hover near you. Sing your praises o'er again. Now the season fast is gliding. Come, ye lads of metal true : This, a sport you take a pride in, I in humble verse pursue. Windsor, fam'd for all the graces, Windsor, fam'd in tale and song ; Windsor, fam'd for pretty faces. And the lads to dash along. Over brake and briar to follow. Over wilds unfrequented trod ; Bosoms glowing at a hollow. Horses bounding o'er the sod. 400 THE SPORTSMAN'S Here hounds as good as e'er were follow'd. O'er the pearly shining dew ; Huntsmen rare as ever halloo" d, Horses stout, of mettle true. Come, ye tribe of little creatures, Now for whoop and now for bound ; Come, and shew your dainty features. Over royal sporting ground. Keenly drives the misty vapour. Coldly feels the turfy bed ; Closely try, or you may 'scape her. Trail has long since over fled. For good Phoebus in his waggon, Slowly mounts him into day ; Sickly yet from last night's flagon. Feebly lights his beaten Avay. Then squib and drive about with spirit. What are hounds, or what is hare ? Shew your truly sporting merit. Nothing dash, why nothing dare. Hounds you may ride o'er by dozens, Should they not go fast to please ; There's plenty more of aunts and cousins, Now at home and at their ease. VOCAL CABINET. 401 Now the clouds are even spreading, Mildly feels the settled air ; Phoebus hides the track he's treading. Screening all his noble glare. Now breast-high the scent is glowing, See the hounds in settled clan ; Sweeter still the scent is glowing. Now ride o'er them if you can. Hark ! old Echo, how she prattles, Dying in the distant glade ; Hark ! yon covert, how it rattles. To the music in the shade. 'Tis folly now with them be staying, Toiling over trackless ground ; Now your skirting tricks be playing. Keep ye trotting in the round. Then you boast you got a stand-still, Gelding fine as mortal rode ; Up and down Snow's higli and grand hill. Or along a plashy road. Now, my masters, I could name ye, Which could lead the burst along ; My trite verse would never shame ye, While such spirits grace my song. 2 m2 402 THE SPORTSMAN'S Tlien live in rliyiiie and live in story, Fame sliall know your deeds so bright ; I will hand ye down in glory, To eternity's long night. Tho' scandal will her trumpet blazon, With her many tongues of shame-; Many goodly souls she plays on, Damning oft a noble name. Scandal here I do assure ye. Shall not find a resting place ; Try my verses by their jury. Muses, and each lovely Grace. Rest ye — Pegasus is tired. This sharp burst has run him hard ; And the horse was only hired, For a heavy, stupid Bard.J Who means to sing in dainty measure, How each fete of horse and man. Added zest to maddcn"d pleasure, Tlirough the noisy, jolly clan. Nag shall rest him in the stable, For a month to bring him round ; Then we'll view again, if able, All the blades of sporting ground. VOCAL CABINET. 403 Now I liave him in my keeping, He'll not work so hard and oft ; If 1 ride, I'm only creeping Where the ground is plain and soft. He is fired, founder'd, winded, Therefore I but view afar. All the bustling, crazy-minded. Of the mocking little war. Now adieu, ye sons of Nimrod, Now adieu I bid with grace ; Your patron, tho' a noble trim god. Did not half enjoy the chase. If you doubt it, read with spirit. Rhymes that I in future write ; Own that Windsor lias some merit. In the sporting world so bright. Hark '. the sweet mellow horn, Salutes the grey-eyed morn. That dawns o'er yonder hill Sounding clear its high notes shrill. Tantara ! the valley resounds, Tautara ! sweet echo rebounds. Hark, forward ! Tally-ho ! See where the sportsmen go. 404 THE SPORTSMAN'S To rouse the bold fleet stag, While Reynard, snug in the bag, But little dreams that he Their victim soon shall be. Hark ! how the huntsman cries. Tally ho! do rend the very skies : See they fly ! there they go, j Over hedge and o'er brake. Now they venture the lake : The hounds, from scenting long. Grow fainter in their song ; Ah ! now I lose their cry ! The victim's doomed to die : See the stag falls ! he flies ! Again he falls ! Ah ! he dies— he dies t Once more, my good fellows, together we meet ; Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; Apollo invites us to Harmony's seat ; . Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty : New pleasures alternate the God will inspire. In twanging his bow, and in tuning his lyre To deiry down derry. Be lively and merry, Sing derry down, derry down, hey down derry. Though often we part, by Necessity's laws, Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; Yet again Ave assemble in Archery's cause ; Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; VOCAL CABINET. 405 Society smoothes what is ruffled by Care, And plucks from each bosom the shaft of Despair. Then derry down derry. Be lively and merry ; Siug deiTy down, derry down, hey down derry. "Should surly Severity Freedom control, Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; With a string of rough sentiments hamper the soul, Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; Let the Cj'nic for once at our sentiments bend. And he"ll find the true length of Philosophy's end- Then derry down derry. He's lively and merry. Sing's derry down, derry down, hey down derry. For the wheel of dame Fortune's the target of life ; Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; To hit the true medium is ev'ry man's strife : Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; As the circles are varied, let this be our plan. To be first in the circle that's fit for each man. Then derry down derry. He's at home, and he's merrj'. Sings derry down, derry down, hey down derry. In the circle of Fashion if Vanity leads, Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; Extravagance loosens, and Folly succeeds ; Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; But in Archery's circle Economj- guides. We have Health to reward us, and Vigour presides. 405 THE SPORTSMAN'S With derry down derry, We're lively and merry ; Sing derry down, derry down, hey down derry. On the hills of Ambition let multitudes rove, Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty : Sun and Moon let tlieni shoot at and terrify Jove ; Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; While the shaft of true Archery quietly flies, In the vale of Contentment where Love is the prize . Derry down derry, Be quiet and merry. Sing derry down, derry down, hey down derry. From the circle of Happiness how many err ; Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; How many do Wealth's golden circle prefer, Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; I prize not the glitter when Friendship has led. And mark'd out Sincerity's circle of red : Then derry down derry, I'm lively and merry. Sing derry down, derry down, hey down derry. If Wit in the circle of pleasing would shine, Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; The rose of Good-nature his shaft should entwine : Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; But if thorns of Malignity furnish the plume, May the butt of Perdition be ever its doom ! Then derry down derry. Be good-natured and merry. With derry down, derry down, hey down derry. VOCAL CABINET. 407 View yondei' our trophies of Archery placed, Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; By the plumes of our patron most royally graced ; Carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; Then at Loyalty's mark be our bows ever bent. In the circle of Britain to signalize Kent : Derry down, derry. Be loyal and merry. Sing derry down, derry down, hey down derry. For myself, if yet more of myself I may prate. And carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; May a circle of Ease be my circle of Fate, Then I'll carol it, carol it, hey to the ditty ; When at Sentiment's circles I aim, as at these. May each fliglit of m}^ fancy successively please ; With derry down derry, I'hus lively and merry, I'll freely sing derry down, hey down derry. OLYMPIA. Come away ! merry maids, and blithe cavaliers all ! Come away ! with a shout at your liege lady's call ; Wherever ye scatter, for pleasure or prey. At the cry of " La Leup," gather round and away '. HYPPOLITO. Come away ! whilst the morning be yet in its prime. Dashing dew from pale myrtles, and beds of wild thyme ; Under roofs quaintly arch'd by tlie blossoming spray, At the cry of " La Leup !" gather round and away. 408 THE SPORTSMAN'S FALCONER. La Leup ! La Leup ! Our falcons stoop, They wist the shrill call and obey ; Lead, lady ! lead. O'er rock, o'er mead, Cry merry " La Leup !" and away. OLYMPIA AND HYPPOLITO. From the dingle, the glade, and the dell. From cool bower where wood-fairies dwell, Down the brake, where the green lizard glides. By the den where the sleeping wolf hides, 'Midst the plash of the water-fall's bed. Near the cross of the murder'd man's head, ' Thro' the wood's hundred paths as ye stray. At the cry of "La Leup !" come away. FALCONER. La Leup ! La Leup ! lead away ! OLYMPIA. La Leup ! La Leup ! come away ! O'er the desert, cross the meadows. Hunters blew the merry horn ; Phoebus chac'd the flying shadows ; Echo she reply'd in scorn ; Still adoring, And deploring, Why must Thyrsis lose his life ? VOCAL CABINET. 409 Rivers murraur'd from their fountains, Acorns droppinsf from the oaks ; Fawns came tripping o'er the mountains ; Fishes bit the naked hooks : Still admiring. And desiring. When shall Phillis be a wife. DUET. Foxglove. When Aurora's appearance, by Phoebus' rays brighten'd. Gives semblance of flame to the regions of air, Charles. When the eyes of a damsel, by Venus enlighten'd, Encourage the youth in pursuit of the fair. Then Love And Diana Will ever require A bosom of energy, spirit, and fire. For the chase mocks the sluggard who scarce keeps the field ; Who makes the best speed has the best of the day. Then gallop on gaily— yoicks ! forward, huzza ! Charles. Foxglove. Both. Foxglove. Charles. Thb sun-beams tint the upland hills. The dew drops tremble bright ; The breath of morn its sweets distils. And hails the new-born light. Hark, boys ! hark, hark ! the huntsman cries. The loud halloo his boast ; And next to love, that conquering flies. Fox-hunting is the toast. 2 N 410 THE SPORTSMAN'S The morning sky looks lively round, And teems with bracing health ; While pleasure wakes man, horse, and hound, To joys unknown to wealth. Let sordid souls on gold rely, 'Till life gives up the ghost, So love but glads the sportsman's eye, Fox-hunting is the toast. Clorinda joins the fond embrace. And jields to love's caress ; Bids every joy attend the chase. And mirth their pastime bless. "Hark, bo}S, hark forward!" rends the air, " Tantivy !" rules the roast ; And while each sportsman laughs at care, Fox-hunting is the toast. No more let wine, no longer hounds, Engag-e the tuneful Nine ; I chaunt a nobler theme by far. And choose the course for mine. The well-breathed greyhound on the lawn Had long ago been sung. But dreading lest his verse should fail. Each poet held his tongue. The hunter, who pursues his game From earliest dawn till noon, Laughs at the courser's rapid joy. Because 'tis o'er too soon. . VOCAL CABINET. 411 Let those who think the course is dull, Attend where beauties shine. Where Townshend,* PEYToN,t grace the plain, And make the sport divine. Whether on Weeting's well-kept field, Or Hamond'sI wide domain, Or at the stouter hares on Smee, Witch, Quince, or Laura strain ; Or on Stonehenge's bounding turf, Which e'en with Norfolk vies, Or over Astley''s§ well-stock'd heath. The Wiltshire greyhound flies. By those, how much misnam'd the course, Wlio beat each hedge with care. Well pleas'd if in the live-long day. They start one hapless hare. No, let me view the high-train'd dogs. In Vale's unerring hand, Loos'd at an instant from the Slips, And skimming o'er the land. * Marchioness Townshend, the then Lady Patroness of the Swaffham Coursing Society. f Lady Peyton, Lady Vice-Patroness. X The late A. Hamond, Esq., of Westacre, in Norfolk, a dis- tinguished member of the Swaffham Coursing Society. § Sir John Astley, of Everleigli House, Wilts ; tlie coursing upon whose domain, from the stoutness of the hares and the nature of the ground, is particularly fine. 412 THE SPORTSMAN'S With Orford,* of tlie coursing train Deservedly tlie pride, Whilst friends around him gladly throng. By wealth, by sport allied. Then may ye meet each circling year. And oft renew the sport ; Long may the evening laugh and tale Add flavour to the port. Each take his glass, a bumper fill, No truant here be found ; Drink that the course may flourish still. And let the toast go round. I row'd for a prize. To receive from those e}'es A kind look, from those lips a sweet smile ; But lest I should lose, And you for that fault your poor Tom should refuse, My heart it went pit-a-pat all the while. W^hen we came to the pull. How I handled my scull ! 'Twould have done your heart good to have seen us ; Tliere was never a boat's length between us. ^o*^ * To found the era^f improved cmirsing, and for introducing greyhounds of superior form and higher blood, was reserved for the late princely owner of Houghton, ** Where cheerful plenty raet the wearied cuest, Aud splendid welcome doubly cronrn'd his rest." If the agricultural meetings in the most distant counties feel themselves grateliilly justified in drinking, as their first toast, " The memory of JMr. Bakewell," no true and consistent coursing meeting can ever omit to give, with equal enthusiasm, " The memory of the Earl of ORroRD !" VOCAL CABINET. 418 But the Swan* once in view, My boat how it flew ! And rerily believe it was all thinking of you. Ye good fellows all, Who love to be told where there's claret good store, Attend to the call Of one who's ne'er frighted, But greatly delighted With six bottles more. Be sure you don't pass The good house money glass. Which the jolly red god so peculiarly owns ; "Twill well suit your humour, For pray, what would you more. Than mirth M'ith good claret and bumper, 'Squire Jones ? Ye lovers who pine For lasses, who oft prove as cruel as fair. Who whimper and whine. For lilies and roses, With eyes, lips, and noses. Or tip of an ear, * In the year after George the First came to the throne, Thomas DouGET, an actor oi" celebrity, gave a waterman's coat and silver badge to be rowed for by six young men whose ap- prenticeships had expired the year before. This he continued till his death; when he bequeathed a sum of money, the interest of which to be appropriated, annually, for ever, to the purchase of a like coat and badge. This ceremony is performed on the first of August, being the anniversary of the accession of the house of Brunswick, to which family he was devotedly attached. The competitors start at that time of the tide when the current is strongest against them, and row from the Old Swan, near London Bridge, to the White Swan at Chelsea. 2 N 2 414 THE SPORTSMAN'S Come, I'll shew you How Phillis and Cliloe No more shall occasion such sighs and such groans ; For what mortal so stupid, As not to quit Cupid, When caird by good claret, and bumpers, 'Squire Jones ? Ye poets who write, And brag of your drinking fam'd Helicon's brook ; Tho' all you get by it Is a dinner oft-times. In reward for your rhymes, With Humphry, the Duke, Learn Bacchus to follow. And quit your Apollo, Forsake all the muses, those senseless old drones ; Our jingling of glasses Your rhyming surpasses, When crown'd with good claret and bumpers, 'Squire Jones ? Ye soldiers so stout. With plenty of oaths, tho' not plenty of coin. Who make such a rout Of all your commanders Who serv'd us in Flanders, And eke at the Boyne, Come, leave oif your rattling Of fighting and battling. And know you'd much better to sleep in whole bones ; Were you sent to Gibraltar, Your note would s^oon alter. And wish for good claret and bumpers, 'Squire Jones J VOCAL CABINET. 415 Ye clergy so wise, Who mysteries profound can demonstrate clear. How worthy to rise. You preach once a week. But your tythes never seek Above once in a year. Come here without failing, And leave off your railing 'Gainst bishops providing for dull stupid drones. Say the text so divine, What is life without wine ? Then away with the claret, a bumper, 'Squire Jones. Ye lawyers, so just. Be the cause what it will, who so learnedly plead. How worthy of trust, You know black from white. Yet prefer wrong to right, As you chance to be feed. Leave musty reports. And forsake the king's courts, Where Dulness and Discord have set up their thrones ; Burn Salkeld and Ventris, With all your damn'd entries. And away with the claret, and bumper, 'Squire Jones. Ye physical tribe. Whose knowledge consists in hard words and grimace. Whene'er you prescribe, Have at your devotion Pills, bolus, or potion, Be what will the case ; 4ir, THE SPORTSMAN'S CABINET. Pray where is the need To purge, blister, and bleed, When ailing yourselves ; the whole faculty owns That the forms of old Galen Are not so prevailing As mirth with good claret, and bumpers, 'Squire Jones. Ye fox-hunters eke, That follow the call of the horn and the hound, Who your ladies forsake Before they're awake, To beat up the brake Where the vermin is found. Leave Piper and Blueman, Shrill Duchess and Trueman, No music is found in such dissonant tones ; Would you ravish your ears With the songs of the spheres. Hark ! away to the claret, a bumper, 'Squire Jones. INDEX. ANGLING. Page. As late by Thames' verdant side 322 Anxious, by the gliding stream, 228 Albeit, gentle Angler, I, 167 Bright blazed the fire of crackling wood 90 By purling stream in shady dell 16 Come, anglers, come, for work prepare 19 Frequent at early blush of morn S6 From town I walked to take the air 104 Grown tired of the town and its noisy pursuit 144 How happy is the Angler's life 314 In circling eddies whirl'd the tide 170 It chanced that an angler 110 Now the finny brood united 398 Of all the recreations which 248 On thy banks, limpid Thames, as I stand 391 On yon fair brook's enamell'd side 184 Reclin'd upon a bank of moss 260 South-west blows the wind, and a lowering sky 288 The lambs they are feeding on lonely Skill-moor 346 The thorn is in the bud 337 Though now at rest, my life was gay 333 To the waters of Lea, so much in esteem 84 What pleasures wait the Angler's life, 363 What though the hunter's horn is mute 37 When the sun is shining low 382 418 INDEX. ARCHERY. Page. A bowman's life's the life to court 20 As blithe as the linnet sings in the green woods 227 Come, Archers, learn the news I tell 339 Come, my good fellows, and quit the bower 174 Come, tune the solemn strain 105 Gay companions of the bower 236 Let abler bards rich trophies raise 36 Link'd in pleasure's sweet communion 83 Now wend we together my merry men all 145 Of all noble sports 388 Old Sagittarius, stuck in the sky 197 On Parnassus' green top where immortal groves nod 257 Once more, my good fellows, toget'ner we meet 404 O'er many a morning rough winter hath scowled 328 Refreshed, like Aurora, when Cancer prevails 297 Since custom of old has call'd out for a song 265 Sound, sound the music, sound it 394 Survey the gay heath, what bright beauties are here 112 The tuneful wind of Robin's horn 320 'Twas one day at a fete 18 We are Archers, so stout and so good 351 We three Archers be , 353 When budding leaves in early spring 361 When spring-tide brings in the new May morn 377 Ye good men of Kent, so trusty and true 334 Ye Lancashire lads, at whose Uberal board 192 COURSING. Come, listen all you sportsmen gay 114 Let our troops and our tars 379 No more let wine, no longer hounds 410 INDEX. 419 Page. On sisth November, year sixteen 273 When Turrifif coursing club appeared 8G9 Ye mortals whose boast. . . - 23 FOX-HUNTING. A sportsman I am, my delight's in the chase 250 Arise, ye sons of sloth, arise 226 Aurora has harness'd the horses of light 51 Aurora has mounted, has mounted her car 1 Aurora appearing, in grey mantle drest 390 Bright Phoebus now lights up the radiance of morn 335 Bright Phoebus in his chariot borne 59 Come, jolly sportsman, come saddle your mare 168 Conie ! wake to the chase, boys, and don your array 177 Cease, cease that raven note, that ringing 174 Descend ye chaste Nine ! 53 Early one morning as I was walking 109 From slumbers rise ; for see the peeping morn 331 Hark ! the hollow woods resounding 261 Hark, the horn from the valley 55 Hark ! tlirough the vale, each passing gale 339 Hark ! hark ! I hear the hunter's horn 238 Hark ! hark I the hunting horn 5G Hark, hark, to the notes of the melodious French-horn.. . . 234 Hark away ! hark away ! to the sound of the horn 313 Hark forward, my boys, tally-ho is the cry 397 Here's a health to them that can ride 145 Huntsman, rejoice, lift up thy voice 207 Huzza, boys ! the royal command has been given 143 Look out, brother sportsmen, the morning is clear 844 Matt Horsley is gone ! a true sportsman from birth 106 Mount, brothers, mount ; 'tis now the time for capering... . 2G3 Of fox-hunters now we've got a fresh store 147 420 INDEX, Page. G list ! 'tis the horn's joyous sound 30 O ! ye sons of the chase, while your spirits are gay 2C7 O ! list to the sound of the horn 61 Oh, had you but seen, near the stone they call Blarney .... 63 On the third of September, I think thereabout 70 Rouse, rouse, my bucks, and hail the day 209 Since Pleasure now sits smiling here 330 Sly reynard is started ; the hounds scent his brush Ill The cock awakes the rosy dawn 116 The gay huntsman no sooner awakes in the morn 353 The glowing east Aurora streaks 74 The lark doth invite the dull sportsman with song 304 The leaf is red, the leaf is sear 32 The shadows of the night are fled away 311 The sporting train with joy begin 213 The sprightly horn awakes the morn 275 The sun had just peep'd his head over the hills 363 The sun now peeps o'er yonder hill 279 The sun-beams tint the upland hilis 409 The west- wind sighs, the night has fled 80 Then free from care, from pain, and sorrow 50 This fine-looking morn which the fields do adorn 358 Though music delights me, yet none has a charm 274 'Tis the horn's shrilly sound that calls us away 212 What is glory, what is fame 301 With raptures extatic Aurora we hail 323 What shall he have that killed the deer 321 When parting at Cobham, his grace let it fall 33 When the season's fine for sporting 91 While others pursue a poor timorous hare 287 Ye dull sleeping mortals of every degree 327 Te fox-hunters, stag, aye, and hare-hunters too 220 INDEX. 421 HARE-HUNTI\G. Page. Come, ye sportsmen, lend an ear to 399 Come, bustle up, the morn is fair 172 Clear is the air, and the morning is fair 117 Hark! the goddess Diana 387 Hark, hark ! I hear the huntsman's horn 305 How sweet is the perfume 15 Since winter's keen blast 108 The nimble hours obey great Phcebus' call 270 Thro' woodlands and forests, how sweet sounds the horn. .. 94 To a fair lovely huntress devoted's my song 200 Up, up, in the morn 252 When Aurora is up, the sweet goddess of day 393 When the huntsmen awake us with shrill sounding horns. . 195 Ye sons of dull sloth 29 Ye sportsmen come forth 332 STAG-HUNTING. Aurora's blush dispels the night 3 Awaken'd by the sprightly horn 201 Aurora's blush the east adorns 233 Come here, brother sportsmen, attend to my song 325 Hark ! the sweet mellow horn 403 Hark ! the sweet horn proclaims afar 349 Hark ! hark ! jolly sportsmen 296 I sing the fam'd hunt, whose men and whose hounds 94 I will give you a song, if that's all you crave 372 Rous' d early by the cheerful horn 367 The horn salutes the ear 319 The lads of Windsor would set out 27 The stag, when chas'd all the long day 393 The op'ning morn dispels the night 38C 2 o 422 INDEX. Page. Through flickering clouds, as orient morn 285 What jocund delight 262 When morn peep'd o'er the mountain's height 182 With such a brisk widow to whirl time away 337 Who knows not the forest where Harold was tomb'd 4 Ye riders, so fam'd in the field and the race 120 HUNTING (THE CHARMS OF) Aurora beams bright 336 Awake, boys, awake ! 'tis the huntsman's loud cry 392 Arise jolly sportsmen, the sun-beams of morn 7 Away with those evils the gloomy contrive 316 Come, Albert, come, the sunbeams bright (the wolf) 232 Calm the winds, the distant ocean 240 Far in the distant east Sol sheds his ray 178 Fom Latmos' mount, whence sacred groves depend , 183 From east to west, from north to south 7 How lovely the morning, the landscape how bright 87 Hark, away to the woodlands 42 Happy is a country Ufe 183 Hark, hark ! I think I hear the horn 122 It is the horn, the bliss-toned horn 331 Keep silence, good folks, and I pray you attend 41 Let astronomers preach up their science pedantic 101 Mankind are all hunters, the little, the great 77 Morning dawns, Aurora blushes 233 Music every charm reveals 151 My grandfather's grandfather, valiant and stout 194 No hfe's like the hunter's ; no joy like the sport 154 O'er Sundorn's rugged tower, we fear no tempest's lour 205 Since the days of great Nimrod when hunting • 126 Sound,"sound the horn 272 Success to all hunters of every degree 123 INDEX. 423 Page. See, seated round the winter's fire. 255 She paused — then, blushing, led the lay 345 The hounds that deck my simple verse 291 To the field, to the field, brother sportsman, repair 221 The hunt is begun ; hark ! the sound of the hoin 269 The sun has arisen, love, Anna, my dear 360 What joy can compare with the sports of the field 9 What pastime's like hunting ; it lengthens our lives 78 When Aurora's sweet blushes enliven the morn 398 When the forehead of Phoebus illumines the east ■.... 215 While ere yet the bright Aurora 365 AVhy sing ye the praises of Fanny or Sue 277 When thro' the woods the hunters trace 383 When the southern breezes play 284 RACING. Come, gentlemen sportsmen, I'll sing you a song 127 Don't you know 1 from Hawkesbury came 14 My Pegasus dull, has the honour and pride 1 85 Of Bath, I'd heard our neighbours talk 306 Oft the bards of old times, and the minstrels' gay strains 58 Oh, George ! I've been, I'll tell you where 241 On the Downs, near New Sarum, to sportsmen well known . . 99 O Wully ! had tou nobbet been at Burgh Races 148 Ye who thirst for sport and fun 179 SHOOTING. A truce with your vapours, refinement, and stuff 150 Arise, jolly sportsmen, arise with the sun 318 A wealthy young squire of Tamworth, we hear 169 Brother sportsmen, give ear 75 Come, you who love the pastime of the fields 39 Come, come, my good fellows, attend to my song 56 Have you been to Ealing, sir (pigeons) 217 424 INDEX. • Page. How sweet is the breath of the fresh op'ning morn 325 I sing of a medal, bright medal of gold {pigeons^ 230 Mr. Brande new laws may frame 244 My bonny moorhen, my bonny moorhen 3.37 Now, from the busy scenes of noisy trade 188 Now Phoebus glads the hills no more (Snipes) 12 Now ripening berries grace the thorn 11 Of all the joys that sporting yields 141 Oh, day of joy ! long wished for day \ 166, Oh, hail ! ever hail, the first day of September 352 Said Mary to Tom 397 Stay, sylvan friend, with plenty blest 152 The day fix'd for our meeting 253 The harvest was over, the crops were all in 268 The morn was peeping through the east 198 The woodcocks and snipes t'other eve met together 74 The wood-path is carpeted over with leaves 101 There's no rural sport surpasses (^Pigeons) 128 Though I rove through the wilds of majestic Braemar 271 To Ealing's famed Hat, we crack shots all invite 348 Up, up, sportsmen up 86 What lots of queer patents, 'tis wondrous I ween 389 "When Eldon was young, as we've heard him declare 210 When inclin'd for a shot I am up with Aurora 10 When the grey morning breaks 303 When smoke upwreaths from humble cdts 277 When the very first day to the field 1 had got 208 Ye remnants of covies attend 229 Ye sportsmen blithe, come leave the town (puffin) 355 Ye sportsmen young, who seek the fens 159 SPORTING MISCELLANEOUS. As I came by a grene forest syde. ... .• 321 INDEX. 425 Page. Any thing's fun in the country, you know 132 ActaBon, who fell by the daughter of Jove 203 Attend, brother sportsmen, your tribute I crave 49 At the back of old Waltham stands high the king's oak 136 Bards call themselves a heavenly race 129 Begin the song, ye mirthful crew 229 Brother sportsmen, to listen, don't fail 154 Come away ! merry maids and blithe cavaliers all {hawking) 407 Don't you see that as how I'm a sportsman in style 259 Dan't you know me? Jenny Dash 161 Dear Phillis, farewell 79 Dick Spencer was son of a country squire 68 Farewell! ye house of Aberdour 384 Fi-om Noah's great grandson our order we trace 67 Go hood my gos and my tassel hawk 368 Hark ! hark ! the huntsman sounds his horn • . . 357 Hark ! thro' the woods the rising sound (viotf hunting) .... 157 Hail! mighty hunter, hail 245 Hail to friendship ! hail to mirth 204 I'm a happy old fellow with very few wants 102 I row'd for a prize 412 I am a jolly bowler 64 It chanc'd one fine night, having little to do 279 Let sons of sloth dream time away 191 Let sportsmen delight in the joys of the field 172 Let us rejoice, the spring appears 131 Life's a general chase 286 Look, brother Bob, to the meadows below ( Otter hunting) 4 7 My hawk is tir'd of perch_ and hood 46 No, no, 'tis in vain in this turbulent town. 140 Now Robin lend to me thy bow 216 Oh, I'll reform! I will, I swear 175 O'er the desart, cross the meadows 408 426 INDEX. Page. The age is a chase , 160 The moon-beam with silver-tipt 350 The morn is bright • 295 The sportman distant from his native home 2 The sportsmen keep hawks, and their quarry they gmn .... .393 The world is amazingly full of deceit 134 This bleak and frosty morning (Skating) 139 Though far from field sports 45 To Knole's famous seat in the year sixty-two (Hawking) 24 Ting, ting ! hark ! I hear (Ringing) • 374 To live a life free from gout (Cricket) 157 To the sports of the field 163 To the words that I sing, my good brother, attend 176 What cursed luck is mine 222 When as the hand at Tennis plays (Tennis) 137 What is it that impels mankind 275 What is life without pleasure 43 What's the use of the dandy 300 When Aurora appears, by Phcebus> rays brightened 21^ AVhen Aurora.s appearance 409 When first a little knowing lad (Ringing) 289 When Phoebus bright, the azure skies V 341 When we sportsmen at table 165 When with spurs, boots, and breeches, in apple-pye trim . . 224 Whilst thousands court fair Chloe's love 141 Ye good fellows all 413 You may boast of wines from gaudy France 88 THE END. BOOKS PUBLISHED BY T. GRIFFITHS, WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND. THE NEW COMIC POEM, ILLUSTRATED BY MR. R. CRUIKSHANK. PRICE ONE SHILLING, A COMIC POEar, Founded on the Drama of the same name (by Moncrieff) and performed with such unbounded applause at the Adelphi Theatre. By H. W. 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