70 THE WARWICKSHIRE HFNT. [1881 



His heart is with his hotinds, and burns 



To be, nor place to yield, 

 Like knight of yore, straight to the fore, 



With them in every field. 



Aronnd the Master's hnuter. 



All black, and white, and tan, 

 The dog hounds groujj, whose looks proclaim 

 Their pedigree and famous name, 



Catch them who may or can ! 

 These five-and-twenty couples 



Can hunt, and race, and stay. 

 As did their sires at Belvoir born. 

 And dams from Brocklesby and Quoi-n, 



Throughout the longest day. 



Behold, in costume varied, 



The many ladies fair ; 

 Some drive themselves in dog-carts, 



And others with a pair. 

 Some are for a quiet ride. 



Others have set no bounds 

 To their ambition, and can go 



Straight as a line to hounds. 



Wlio are these in black and grey ? 



Erst at meets in plenty. 

 These few are they who are, alas ! 

 The remnant of a splendid class, 



But now count hardly twenty. 

 The yeomen and the farmers, 



Old England's bone and sinew, 

 They from the straight line never swerve ; 

 Of all who do the fox preserve. 

 They most our boundless thanks deserve 



Shall hunting still continue. 



Well nigh two hundred horsemen 



Are there in j^ink and black, 

 Who on wheels have done the distance, 



Or on a cantering hack. 

 And quite as eager as the rest 



To take part in the fray, 

 A large contingent are on foot, 



Out for a holidav. 



