^52 THE WARWICKSHIRE HUNT. [1876 



With no liat one man went to the end of the run. 



But away once again, they seemed i*eady to kill. 



And go screaming along straight away to Edge Hill, 



And if I might borrow a couplet from Scott, 



I could tell how of riders a fair goodly lot 



Tightened reins, and, in sooth, it was quite in despair, 



When they saw, straight in front, Edge Hill's crest rise in air ; 



But still on, on again, for no check here occitrred. 



And away once again, straight as flight of a l:)ird. 



Eor'ard still raced the hounds, and the pace was the best 



Along the steep slopes to the said Edge Hill's crest. 



Then down once again, close to Arlescote below, 



Straight pointing for Warmington, on the hounds go ; 



And they scream o'er the line, o'er those pastures of grass, 



Though no longer we stick to them here, for, alas ! 



It much grieves me to say, for the sake of our shire. 



That down here we hear horrible murmurs of " wire," 



That terrible word, quite sufficient to quell 



The ardour of those who had followed so well. 



By necessity turned here, at best pace we strode. 



To nick in with the pack half a mile down the road. 



Here kind fortune befriends us, we meet them again, 



And to keep with them now every muscle we strain. 



And for'ard, still for'ard, in capital style, 



Their keenness unchecked, they race mile after mile ; 



Whilst pug still holds his own, till, the sun going down, 



He bends to the right near to Warmington town. 



And, distance unheeding, the pace, too, that kills, 



Once again with rare courage he faces the hills. 



Here I steal a look backwards, as Orvis comes by, 



And say, "But eleven bold riders I spy." 



He replies, " A bit more, sir, to this lively tune, 



•" And little the counting we'll need pretty soon." 



And, panting and sobbing, near done by this time, 



Once again our good nags up those dreadful hills climb; 



And, scarce pausing a moment for breath at the top, 



It is for'ard again. Will those hounds never stop ? 



And this fox must his colours have nailed to the mast ; 



" No surrender ! " his motto. A check comes at last. 



And oh ! welcome the resj^ite, the nags nearly done, 



The sun sunk to rest, and its light all but gone. 



And how gladly atlast the pursuit we all yield, 



To Upton House close in the very next field. 



Of the finish I scarcely know what I must say, 



For the fox had earned life, and the hounds earned their prey ; 



Though i)ug owed his escaj^e at the last to the sheej), 



