44 THE WARWICKSHIRE HUNT. [1812 



Down sloughy lanes to covert ride, 



And over fences high and wide. 



Led by the all-bewitching sounds 



Of the sweet horn, but sweeter hounds — ■ 



That lusty health, which laboiu*, kind, 



Bestows upon the sturdy hind. 



The meet to-day might proudly vie, 

 In sportsmen choice, of spirits high, 

 With any field that did appear 

 At any time in Warwickshire. 



At Biu'ton Hill a fox we found, 



A better never led a hound 



Over a country — one so good 



Was seldom rous'd in brake or wood ! 



Hark I as the pack uj^on him dash, 

 The clear, harmonious, thund'ring crash ! 

 All silent now — the scent so strong, 

 They dart as swallows swift along ; 

 Beai'ing in style each head and stern. 

 They all with matchless ardour burn ; 

 While scent, that mystic, subtle thing, 

 Is floating, caught on zephyr wing I 



Pug first o'er Knightcote Bottom stray"d, 

 Then to the right a turning made ; 

 Thence over Fenny Ccmpton Field, 

 Too brave and stout to skulk or yield ; 

 Over Wormleightou Bottom ran. 

 And to the hill of Boddington. 



In gallant style the pack pursue. 

 And drive him the thick covert through ; 

 Then off to Hardwick Field he led, 

 Impeded not by check or head, 

 To Red Hill Wood, the killing pace 

 Was seldom equaird in the chace ; 

 Here the first check was timely found. 

 For horse and rider, fox and hound ! 



Reynard, by this, tho' stout and fleet. 

 Had no desire again to meet 

 An enemy who on him press'd 

 Without a moment's time to rest ; 



