Tally-ho 209 



the night. This is by far the finest and longest 

 run with a pack of harriers that I ever heard of. 

 Few, if any, packs of foxhounds have ever beaten it. 



H. A. Bryden. 



The Hunting Song ^z> o 



THE Sun from the East tips the Mountains 

 with Gold, 

 And the Meadows all spangled with Dew-drops, 



behold 

 How the Lark's early Matin proclaims the new 



Day, 

 And the Horn's cheerful Summons rebukes our 



Delay ; 

 With the Sports of the Field there's no pleasure can 

 vie, 

 While Jocund we follow, follow, follow, follow. 

 Follow, follow, follow the Hounds in full Cry. 



Let the Drudge of the Town make Riches his 



Sport, 

 And the Slave of the State hunt the Smiles of the 



Court, 

 Nor care nor Ambition nor patience annoy, 

 But Innocence still gives Zest to our joy. 

 With the Sports of the Field, etc. 



Mankind all are hunters in various Degree, 

 The Priests hunt a Living, the Lawyer a Fee ; 

 The Doctor a Patient, the Courier a place, 

 They often like us are flung out with Disgrace. 

 With the Sports of the Field, etc. 



The Cit hunts a Plum, the Soldier hunts Fame, 

 The Poet a Dinner, the Patriot a Name, 



