Hunting the Stag 123 



The Wildgrave ^:> ^:^ ^:> 



THE Wildgrave winds his bugle-horn, 

 To horse, to horse ! halloo, halloo ! 

 His fiery courser snufFs the morn. 

 And thronging serfs their lord pursue. 



The eager pack, from couples freed. 

 Dash through the bush, the brier, the brake ; 

 While answering hound, and horn, and steed, 

 The mountain echoes startling wake. 



The beams of God^s own hallow'd day 

 Had painted yonder spire with gold, 

 And, calling sinful man to pray. 

 Loud, long, and deep the bell had toll'd : 



The Wildgrave spurr'd his ardent steed. 

 And, launching forward with a bound, 

 " Who, for thy drowsy priestlike rede. 

 Would leave the jovial horn and hound ? " 



Up springs, from yonder tangled thorn, 

 A stag more white than mountain snow ; 

 And louder rung the Wildgrave's horn, 

 " Hark forward, forward ! holla, ho ! " 



O'er moss and moor, and holt and hill. 

 His track the steady blood-hounds trace ; 

 O'er moss and moor, unwearied still. 

 The furious Earl pursues the chase. 



Sir Walter Scott. 



Mr. Jorrocks and the Surrey Staghounds 



" l^TOW to 'orse — to 'orse ! " exclaimed he, 



J_\| suiting the action to the word, and climbing 



on to his great chestnut, leaving the Yorkshireman 



to mount the rat-tail brown. " Let's have a look 



