172 THE WAEWICKSHIRE HUNT. [1889 



Twine ! lady, twine thy golden hair in braid, 

 Thrice for thy kind caress thy steed liath neighed ; 

 Impatient all we wait thee ; dull the day, 

 If G-yneth be not there to lead the way. 



Open ! Fred, open the kennel door. 

 Let the glad pack from out its portals pour ; 

 Chide not if here or there some eager voice, 

 Shows how they all for liberty rejoice. 



Mount ! sportsman, mount ! they've brought thy best to-day. 

 First horse the chesnut, then the gallant grey ; 

 You'll need the blue blood coursing through each vein. 

 Before, the chase well o'er, you slack your rein. 



Blow ! himtsman, blow thy horn, and let its sound 

 Through the dark forest aisles once more resotmd, 

 To wake bold Reynard from his morning dream, 

 And wake him all in fear of thy wild scream. 



Speak ! Wildboy, speak ! and let thy challenge fly 

 Afar to bid thy comrades score to cry ; 

 Huic ! Trampler, huic ! 'twas Talisman that spoke. 

 Hark how the chorus rings from oak to oak ! 



Holloa ! Jack, holloa ! I'll be bound he s gone, 

 Though up the breeze the sound is faintly borne, 

 Hark ! hark again ! by ISTimrod, he's away, 

 Yonder they go — now let the coward stay. 



Ride ! sportsman, ride ! o'ertake them if you can, 

 Five of the best and bravest lead the van ;* 

 Ride straight, though wide the dyke and stiff the rail. 

 Fear not the flooded Braunston in the Vale. 



Pause ! Captain, pause a moment — there's a check ; 

 We know you value not your gallant neck. 

 How featly o'er a country you can glide ; 

 We came to Mint, and not to see you ride. 



Save ! wise man, save your horse, and in the plough 

 Choose the wet fiu-row ; softly o'er the brow 

 Of yon steep hill, then gently down the slope ; 

 Faster again ! — he'll reach the end, we hope, 



* Messrs. C. Adamtliwaite, C. Beatty, C. H. Joliffe, J. Charters, and J. S. Follett. 



