While bounds in full cry, thro hedges fhall fly,

And chace the fwift hare till he dies.

And he pants, till with well-fcented hounds furrounded he dies.

ET the gay ones and great

Make the most of their fate, From pleasure to pleasure they run, Well, who cares a jot?

I envy them not,

No pleasure like hunting is found;

For when it is o'er, as brifk as before,

Next morning we fpurn up the ground.

HA

[ARK, hark ye, how echoes the horn in the vale, Whofe notes do fo fportingly dance on the gale, To charm us to barter for ignoble reft,

The joys which true pleasure can raise in the breast,
The morning is fair, and in labour with day,
And the cry of the huntfman is hark, hark away,
Then wherefore defer we one moment our joys?
Hafte hafte let's away, fo to horfe my brave boys.
What pleasure can equal the joys of the chace,
Where meaner delights to more noble give place?
While onward we prefs, and each forrow defy,
From valley to valley re-echoes the cry:
Our joys are all fterling, no forrow we fear,
We bound o'er the lawn, and look back on old care ;
Forgetful of labour, we leap o'er the mounds,
Led on by the horn, and the cry of the hounds.

WH

7HEN Phoebus the tops of the hills does adorn, How fweet is the found of the echoing horn, When the antling ftag is rous'd with the found, Erecting bis ears nimbly fweeps o'er the ground, And thinks he has left us behind on the plain: But ftill we purfue and now come in view of the glo. rious game.

O fee how again he rears up his head,
And winged with fear he redoubles his fpeed:
But oh! tis in vain that he flies,

That his eyes lofe the huntfman, his ears lofe the cries,

For exercife, air,

To the fields I repair,

With fpirits unclouded and light;
The bliffes I find,

But health and diverfion unite.
No ftings leave behind,

OME, ye sportsmen so brave, who delight in the field,

CO

Where the bud-barren mountain fresh raptures can yield,

With the health-breathing chace rouse the foul with delight,

With the jolly god, Bacchus, be jovial at night.
See the high mettled fteeds! where fnorting they fly
While, ftaunch, the dogs cover the ground in full cry!
While, ftaunch, while ftaunch, the dogs cover the
ground in full cry!

How can ye, my boys, from fuch sports now refrain, When the horn's chearful found calls you forth to the plain?

Poer Puffy! fhe flies, and feems danger to fcorn, Then redoubles her speed as the bounds o'er the lawn. See the high-mettled fteeds, &c.

She has cunningly cheated the scent of the hounds; Through hedge-rows the creeps, and fculks o'er the downs:

Brush them in, my bold hearts! fhe fits panting for breath!

The victim is feiz'd-Hark! the horn founds her death. See the high-mettled feeds, &c.

B 3

LA

AST Valentine's day when bright Phebus fhone clear,

I had not been hunting for more than a year :

I mounted black Sloven, o'er the road made him bound,

For I heard the hounds challenge, and horns fweetly found,

Taleo taleo taleo taleo taleo taleo taleo.

Hallo into covert, old Anthony cries,

No fooner he spoke, but the fox, fir, he 'fpies;
This being the fignal, he then crack'd his whip,
Taleo was the word, and away we did leap,
Taleo, &c.

Then up rides Dick Dawfon, who car'd not a pin,
He sprang at the drain, but his horfe tumbled in;
And as he crept out, why he fpy'd the old Ren',
With his tongue hanging out stealing home to his den.
Taleo, &c.

Our hounds and our horfes were always as good-
As ever broke covert, or dafn'd thro' the wood;
Old Reynard runs hard, but must certainly die,
Have at you, old Tony, Dick Dawfon did cry,
Taleo, &c..

The hounds they had run twenty miles now or more,
Old Anthony fretted, he curs'd too and swore,
But Reynard being fpent foon muft give up the ghost,
Which will heighten our joys when we come to each
toaft.

Taleo, &c.

With enliv'ning founds,
Encourage the hounds,

To rival the speed of the deer.

If you find out his lair, To the woodlands repair, Hark! hark! he's unharbour'd they cry; Then fleet o'er the plain, We gallop amain,

All, all is a triumph of joy.

O'er heaths, hills, and woods,
Thro' forefts and floods,

The flag flies as fwift as the wind;
The welkin refounds,

With the cry of the hounds,
That chant in a concert behind.
Adieu to all care,
Pale grief and despair,
We ride in oblivion of fear;
Vexation and pain,

We leave to the train,
Sad wretches that lag in the rear.
Lo! the ftag ftands at bay,
The pack's at a stay,

They eagerly feize on their prize :
The welkin refounds

With the chorus of hounds,

Shrill horn with his knell, and he dies.

W

HEN Phoebus begins juft to peep o'er the hills,
With horns we awaken the day,

And roufe, brother sportsmen, who fluggishly fleep,
With hark! to the woods hark! away:

See the hounds are uncoupled in musical cry,
How fweetly it echoes around;

And high mettled fteeds with their neighings all feem
With pleasure to echo the found.

Behold when fly Reynard, with panic and dread,
At diftance o'er hillocks doth bound;

The pack on the fcent fly with rapid career,
Hark! the horns! O how fweetly they found:

Now

Now on to the chace, o'er hills and o'er dales,

All dangers we nobly defy;

0 rnags are all ftout, and our fports we'll pursue, With fhouts that refound to the fky.

But fee how he fags, all his arts are in vain,

No longer with fwiftness he flies;
Each hound in his fury determines his fate,
The traitor is feiz'd on and dies:

With fhouting and joy we return from the field,
With drink crown the fports of the day;
Then to reft we recline, till the horn calls again,
Then away to the woodlands, away.

the

Now gold,

hill-tops are burnish'd with azure and

And the profpect around us most bright to behold; The hounds are all trying the mazes to trace,

The fteeds are all neighing, and pant for the chace. Then roufe, each true fportfman, and join at the dawn,

The fong of the hunters, and found of the horn.
Health braces the nerves and gives joy to the face,
Whilft over the heath we pursue the fleet chace;

See, the downs now we leave, and the coverts appear,
As eager we follow the fox or the hare.

Then roufe, &c.

Wherever we go, pleasure waits on us ftill,
If we fink in the valley, or rife on the hill;
O'er hedges and rivers we valiantly fly,

For fearless of death we ne'er think we shall die.
Then roufe, &c.

From ages long paft, by the poets we're told,
That hunting was lov'd by the fages of old;
That the foldier and huntsman were both on a par,
And the health-giving chace made them bold in the

war.

Then roufe, &c.

When the chace is once over, away to the bowl,

The full flowing bumpers fhall chear up the foul;

Whilft jocund our fongs fhall with chorufes ring, And toats to our laffes, our country and king. Then roufe, &c.

OUND, found the brifk horn,

SOUN

"Twill enliven the morn, And nature replenish with glee, The vallies around,

Shall rejoice at the found,
And join in the chorus with me,
Let ladies each night
In cards take delight,

And fuch dull amufements embrace,
At noon then arife,
Unknown to the joys

Of the health-giving, health giving chace.
But while they're content,
Why let them frequent

The playhoufe, the park or the ball;
The pleafures I chufe,

My time to amufe,

Are greatly fuperior to all.

Led on by the loud founding horn,

Kind breezes ftill greet us, with chearfulness crown'è,
And joyful we meet the fweet morn.

Rofy health blooms about us with natural grace,
Whilft echo re-echo'd enlivens the chace.

Should all the gay larks as they foar to the sky,
Their notes in a concert unite,

The mufic of hounds when fet off in full cry,
Would give a more tuneful delight.
Rofy health, &c.

Tis over, tis over, a pleasure divine,

Fresh air and full exercise yield,

At night, my good friends, o'er the juice of the vine,
We'll fing to the sports of the field.
Rofy healthy &

From the east breaks the morn,
See, the fun-beams adorn

The wild beath and the mountains fo high;
Shrilly opes the ftaunch hound,
The feed neighs to the found,
And the floods and the vallies reply.

Our forefathers, fo good,
Prov'd their greatnefs of blood,

By e count'ring the hart or the boar;
Ruddy health bloom'd the face,

Age and youth urged the chace,

And taught woodlands and forests to roar.

Hence, of noble defcent,

Hus and wilds we frequent,

Where the bofom of nature's reveal'd,
Tho' in life's bufy day,

Man of man makes a prey,

Still let our be the prey of the field.

With the chace in full fight,
Gods! how great the delight!
How our mortal fenfations refine!
Where is care, where is fear?
Like the winds in the rear,
And the man's loft in fomething divine.

Now to horfe my brave boys:
Lo! each pants for the joys
That anon fhall enliven the whole;
Than at eve we'll difmount,
Toils and pleasures recount,
And renew the chace over the bowl.

RECITATIVE.

T

W

To hade him from the rage of mid-day heat;

RECITATIVE.

HEN firft Aurora gilds the eaftern hills, And on the ground her glittering dewfpills,

Tho' fo great was his fame, There's a flur on his name,

As men he purfeed in the race.
But fuch tyrants the chace
Will its pleafures difgrace,

Yet friendship fhall ftill be our guide; with the found of the horn,

Call forth each in the morn,

Our fports there shall nothing divide. But again he's in view, And we neater purfue,

His fpirits decrease as he flies; Now they've pull'd him to ground, And the dogs have him bound,

Ah! fee how he trembles and dies.

Now our pleafure's complete,
Hark, the horn founds retreat,

T

Our sport does our health ftill maintain; To the bowl next away,

We'll with joy crown the day,
And then be as merry again.

RECITATIVE.

HE refy morn with crimson dye, Had newly ting'd the eastern sky, The feather'd race on every spray, Sweet warble to the god of day. When chafte Diana, goddess bright, From balmy flumber fpringing light, Wak'd all her nymphs from pleafing reft, And thus her fylvan train addreis'd.

AIR.

From this high mount with me defcend,
And hey to the joys of the chace;
O'er hill and dale our flight we'll bend,
And march the fleet tag in our pace.
My filver bow is ready freng,
My golden quiver is graceful hung,

Ανα