1880] MR. LUPTON'S POEM. 53 



THE GRAFTON FOX. 



There's a sntig-lying covert, so quiet and still, 



That fringes the brow of the steej) Grafton hill ; 



Where the thorn-bushes thrive, on the warm sunny bank. 



And the brambles creej) far, 'midst the coarse grasses rank ; 



'Tis a residence charming, a snug hunting box. 



And the tenant at will is the game Grafton Fox. 



The view from his lodge is extensive and grand. 



O'er the rich Avon vale, to the far Cotswold land. 



Where hill upon hill is piled up to the sky, 



And the summit is crowned by the tower raised on high. 



Which, far above Broadway, stands bold on its rocks — 



A landmark well known to the game Grafton Fox. 



Thrice already this season he's heard Jack's shrill scream. 

 Thrice already he's led us across the swift stream, 

 Wliich, filled to the brim by a month's melting snow, 

 Shows a broad silver streak in the valley below ; 

 And thrice, while the cold flood soaked down to our socks. 

 Has he winked his left eyelid, this game Grafton Fox. 



Yes ; thrice have we chased him, and three times in vain 

 Have we galloped our l)est o'er the snow-sodden jjlain. 

 Through the ploughs and the fallows, so holding and deep, 

 Till the nags seemed scarce able to rise to a leap, 

 For the ground let us in to the knees and the hocks, 

 Each time that he beat us, that game Grafton Fox. 



Thrice already the Master has tried all he knew. 



And though each time the pack hunted staunchly and true, 



Yet the end has each time been precisely the same, 



For this good fox knows well evei-y move of the game ; 



And his Lordship's remark was not quite orthodox. 



When outwitted once more by this grand Grafton Fox. 



Still, long may he live in the game to take part. 

 For to lose a good fox never grieves me at heart ; 

 And if for the fourth time he breasts the cold tide. 

 And shakes his wet brush on the Gloucestershire side, 

 Though he leaves us all grounded below WeKord locks, 

 Yet I would not grudge life to the game Grafton Fox. 



But if ever they slip away close in his rear, 



And the notes of the pack ring a knell in his ear ; 



If they turn where he turns, not less speedy than true. 



If they race on the line till they run him in view. 



