76 THE WARWICKSHIRE HUNT. [1825 



He was rig-ht ; for although at first starting the tit 



Could just stay with the hounds, and o'er-ride them a bit, 



We had no sooner left the small fields and light soil, 



Than to live was a pleasure amounting to toil. 



The scent was improving, pace faster, of coixrse. 



The hoinid getting fleeter, and slower the horse ; 



Ev'ry foot o'er the vale the pack beat us at will. 



And were two fields ahead when they mounted the hill 



That's crown'd with the hall of Sir Shuckburgh's descendants, 



Ungraced and unaided by human attendants. 



The check at the earth gave us time to ascend, 



Where 'twas smoking, and piping, and " bellows to mend." 



Fifty minutes so ripping, it must be confessed. 



Was enough for the bad ones, no joke for the best. 



And now o'er the vale where the Welshman* presides. 



And "High Noble Field,"! with its evergreen sides, 



Where folks 'gan to falter, and justice to yield, 



The peer played a solo for many a field. 



But for this he may thank the address of his man. 



Who brought up his mare fresh, the fleet Marianne. 



We brushed him up smartish to Stavertou Wood ; 



He skirted it down the hill — hang his stout blood I 



AVas headed, and back to the cover he slunk, 



The men in a pickle, the peer in a funk. 



From Stavertou Wood he broke cleanly and dry 



(We've known it before) ; " A fresh fox ! " was the cry. 



The gentleman washed to be knowdug, of course, 



And perhaps he was fresh as compared with his horse. 



Pug managed to make one small field from the cover, 



A. crash and a whimper, " who-whoop ! " and it's over. 



Scarce the fate of this veteran fox had been seal'd. 



When the c[uestion occurred, " What's become of the field? " 



They can't all be beaten, they can't have stood still; 



I've seen but six people from Shuckborough Hill. 



Perhaps the brook stopped them ; I hope they are in it. 



" Don't alarm yourself, sir, they'll be here in a minute ; 



They'll meet with some farmer, a good pioneer." 



The word was scarce spoken, when lo ! they appear ; 



They had fought for a road, and then made a wild cast, 



And the wind-shirking gentlemen came up at last. 



Little else to describe, if to write I was hired. 



But the jest of the fresh and excuse of the tired. 



" What kept you, kind sir, in the background so far'r " 



" Why, I stopped at the village to light my cigar." 



*Tlie late Sir Thomas Mostyn. The country was then hunted by " The Bicester." 

 t Xewbold Field, or Xewbold Grounds. 



