Away my nymphs, 'away, away,

Let fhouts to the welkin refound, And the who ftrikes the deftin'd prey,' Shall queen of the foreft be crown'd.

RECITATIVE.

The milkmaid's carol glads the ploughman's car, The jolly huntfman winds his chearful horn, And the ftaunch pack return the lov'd falute.

AIR.

The hounds are unkenneled, and now,

Thro' the copfe and the furz will we lead,

dawn,

The thrush melocious drowns the ruftic note,

Loud fings the black bird thro' refounding groves, And the lark foars to meet the rifing fun.

AIR.

Away, to the copfe lead away,

And now, my boys, throw off the hounds;

I'll warrant he thews us fome play;

See, yonder he skulks thro' the grounds..

For there lurks the thief that must bleed. I told you fo didn't I?-see where he flies; 'Twas Bellman that open'd, fo fure the fox dies. Let the horn's jolly found, Encourage the hound,

And float through the echoing skies,

F

RECITATIVE.

The chace begun, nor rock, nor flood, nor swamp,

bloods:

'Tis a delicate fcent-lying morn;

What concert is equal to thofe of the woods,
Betwixt echo, the hounds, and the horn?

Each earth fee he tries at in vain,

In cover no ¡afety can find,

So he breaks it, and fcours amain,

And leaves us at diftance behind.

O'er rocks and o'er rivers, and hedges we fly,
All hazard and danger we fcorn;
Stout Reynard we'll follow until that he die;
Cheer up the good dogs with the horn.

And now he fcarce creeps thro' the dale,

All parch'd from his mouth hangs his tongue;

His fpeed can no longer avail,

Nor his life can his cunning prolong.

'Till the dead notes proclaim the falling prey, Then-to the fportive fquire's capacious bowl.

To liften how the hounds and horns,

Chearly route the flumb'ring morn,
From the fide of fome hoar hill,

filed,

Hark! hark! don't you hear they are now in the dale,
The horn, how melodious it founds!
Poor Pufs in a fright, how the ftrives to prevail,
And fly from the cry of the hounds.

Though up to the hills and the mountains the fcales,
Whofe top feems to join to the sky;
We mount in the air like a kite in a gale,'
And follow the hounds in full cry."
Though into the copfe there for refuge the flies,
We kill her, 'tis twenty the odds;

While echo furrounds us with hooting and cries,
We feem to converfe with the gods.

Our freedom with confcience is never alarm'd.
We are ftrangers to envy and ftrife;
When bleffed with a wife, we return to her arms,
Sport fweetens the conjugal life.
Our days pafs away in a fcene of delight,

Which kings and their courtiers ne'er tafte,
In pleasures of love we reve! all night,
Next morning return to the chace.

IAM, jolly huntfman,

My voice is fhrill and clear,
Well known to drive the ftag,
And the drooping dogs to chear.
And a hunting, &c.,-

I leave my bed betimes,

Before the morning grey;

Let loose my dogs, and mount a horfe,
And hallo, come away, &c.

The game's no fooner rous'd,

But in rush the chearful cry,

Thro' bush and brake, o'er hedge and flake,
The frighted beaft does fly, &c.

In vain be flies to covert,
A num'rous pack pursue,
That never cease to trace his steps,

Ev'n though they've lost the view, &i.

There's Scentwell and Finder,
Dogs never known to fail,
To hit off with humble nose,
But with a lofty tail &c

To Scent well, hark! he calls,

And faithful Finder joins,
Whip in the dogs, my merry rogues,
And give your horfe the reins, &c.
Hark forward how they go it,
The view they'd loft they gain;
Tantivy, high and low,

Their legs and throats they ftrain, &c. There's Ruler and Countess,

That moft times lead the field,
Traveller and Bonnylafs,

To none of them will yield, &c.
Now Duchefs bits it foremost,
Next Lightfoot leads the way,
And Toper bears the bell,
Each dog will have his day, &c.
There's Mufic and Chanter,

Their nimble trebles try;
While Sweetlips and Tunewell,
With counters clear reply, &c.

There's Rockwood and Thunder,

That tongue the heavy bass;

Whilst Trowler and Ringwood

With tenors crown the chace, &c.

Now fweetly in full cry

Their various notes they join; Gods! what a concert's here, my lads! 'Tis more than half divine, &c. The woods, rocks, and mountains, Delighted with the found, To neighb'ring dales and fountains Repeating, deal it round, &c.

A glorious chace it is,

We drove him many a mile,

O'er hedge and ditch, we go thro' flitch, And hit off many a foil, &c.

And yet he runs it ftoutly,

How wide, how fwift he ftrains, With what a fkip he ook that leap, And fcours it o'er the plains, &c. See how our horfes foam!

The dogs begin to droop,
With winding horn, on fhoulder bor'n,
'Tis time to chear them up, &c.
[Sounds Tantivy.]

Hark! Leader, Countess, Bouncer,
Chear up my merry dogs all;
To Tatler, hark; he holds it smart,
And answers every cail, &c.
Co co there, drunkard Snowball,
Gadzooks! whip Bomer in

We'll die i'th' place, ere quit the chace,
"Till we've made the game our own, &c.

Up yonder fleep I'll flow,

Befet with craggy ftones;

My lord cries, Jack, you dog! come back, Or elfe you'll break your bones, &c. Huzza! he's almost down,

He begins to flack his curfe,

He pants for breath; I'll in at's death,
Or elfe I'll kill my horfe, &c.

See, now he takes the moors,

And ftrains to reach the ftream;

He leaps the flood, to cool his blood,
And quench his thirty flame, &c.
He fcarce has touch'd the bank,
The cry bounce finely in,
And fwiftly fwim across the fiream,
And raise a glorious din, &c.

His legs begin to fail,

His wind and fpeed is gone,

He ftands at bay, and gives 'em play,
He can no longer run, &c.

Old Heftar long behind,

By ufe and nature bold,
In rushes first, and feizes faft,

But foon is Aung from's hold, &c.
He traverses his ground,

Advances and retreats,
Gives many hound a mortal wound,
And long their force defeats, T.
He bounds, and fprings, and fnorts,
And shakes his branched head,
'Tis fafeft fartheft off, I fee,

Poor Tallboy is lain dead, &c.
Vain are heels and antlers,
With fuch a pack fet round,
Spite of his heart, feize every part,
And pull him fearlefs down, &c.
Ha! dead, ware dead, whip off,
And take a fpecial care;
Difmount with speed, and cut his throat,
Left they his haunches tear, &c.

The fport is ended now,

We're laden with the spoil;

As home we pafs, we talk o'th chace,
O'erpaid for all our toil.

And a hunting c.

While drunkards are pleas'd in the joys of the cup,
And turn into day ev'ry night;

At the break of each morn the huntsman is up,
And bounds o'er the lawns with delight.

Then quickly my lads to the foreft repair,
O'er dales and o'er valleys let's fly;
For who can, ye gods, feel a moment of care,
When each joy will another fupply:

Thus each morning, each day, in raptures we pass,
And defire no comfort to share;

But at night to refresh with the bottle and glass,
And feed on the fpoil of the hare.

37

HARK! for fore I hear the horns melodious

Then come come come join in
The chearful merry din
Of the hounds in concert fhrill,
Heard round from hill to hill.
All fhall join in jolly fong,
Noble fports to us belong;
Hail the morning's ruddy face,
Now begins the sprightly chace.
Then out fcouts Reynard strong
And nimbly darts along,
To climb the neighb'ring bill,
Or leap the purling rill.
All fhall join, &c.

Boys, follow then with fpeed,
As we have thus agreed;

Then come, come, mend your pace,
And follow brisk the chace.
All fhall join, &c.

We foon fhall fee him lag,
Like deer or hunted stag;
Then prefs him hard, my bloods,
We'll drive him to the floods.
All fhall join, &c.

312

O'er floods, o'er rocks and hills, And over purling tills,

[found;

Unkennel the fox from his den: [lands around,
Or if, when they're trailing along on the ground,
A pufs fhould be farted then,

So ho, cries our huntiman, fo ho, the's in view,
Then with hounds in full cry we the paftime purfue.
But if we should meet with an out-lying deer,
The paftime fo royal we'll roufe;
Purfue him till flain where he flies without fear,

And ne'er the glad fight of him lose,
Neither hedges ner ditches hall fer us our bounds;
If our horfes are good we'll keep up with the hounds,
When our day's fport is over then home we'll return
To enjoy our dear bottle and glass,
And all be as ready as ever next morn

To go back to the jovial chace. Thus Nimrod's diverfion we'll keep in renown, And each night with a bumper our day's fport we'll

40

[crown,

How fof glides the ftream the gay meadow :long'
The birds all how chearfol, how tuneful their fong,
How Flora the meads with her gifts doth adorn,
The violet, the rofe, and the fair blooming thorn 3
And hark! till to heighten the joys of this place,
The found of the horn speaks the hounds are in chace
See over yon clover the hare fwif ly flies,
While the hunters pursue her with clamorous cries;
Hatie, hafte, then away, let us join in the fport,
Leap the banks, fly the gates, tà yon covert refort ;
There trembling the lies, panting, gasping for breath
Let's follow with speed to be in at the death.

'Tis done, the is breathless, now home we repair,
While peals lood, triumphant, relound thro' the air
Not a hill, or a valley, or cavern around,
Where e ho refides, but repeats the glad found;
While Piebus well pleas'd the gay profpect furveys
And freaks the fair morn with his brightest of rays.

Content with our fiations, more happy than lords,
With hearts true and loval we jovially fing,
No troubled with cares from ambition that fpring
While the courtier is eagerly hunting a place,
We jocundly join in the fports of the chace.
LET the flave of ambition and wealth,
On the frolic of fortune depend,
I afk but old claret and health,

41

A pack of good hounds and a friend. In fuch real joys will be found,'

True happiness centers in thefe;
While each moment that dances around
Is crown'd with contentment and eafe.
Old claret can drive away care,
Health fmiles on our days as they roll;
What can with true friendship compare ?
And a tally I love from my foul.
Then up
with your bumper my boys,"
Each hour that flies we'll improve;
A heel-tap's a fpy on our joys---

Here's to fox-hunting, friendship, and love.