142 The Chase 



The cruel rav'nous hounds and bloody hunters 



near, 

 This noblest beast of chase, that vainly doth but 



fear. 

 Some bank or quickset finds : to which his haunch 



oppos'd, 

 He turns upon his foes, that soon have him inclos'd. 



Michael Drayton. 



A-Hunting We will Go *^> o 



THE dusky night rides down the sky, 

 And ushers in the morn ; 

 The hounds all join in glorious cry, 

 The huntsman winds his horn. 



And a-hunting we will go. 



The wife around her husband throws 



Her arms to make him stay ; 

 " My dear, it rains, it hails, it blows ; 



You cannot hunt to-day." 



Yet a-hunting we will go. 



Away they fly to 'scape the rout. 

 Their steeds they soundly switch ; 



Some are thrown in, and some thrown out, 

 And some thrown in the ditch. 



Yet a-hunting we will go. 



Sly Reynard now like lightning flies, 



And sweeps across the vale ; 

 And when the hounds too near lie spies. 



He drops his bushy tail. 



Then a-hunting we will go. 



