HUNTING SONGS 



Fleet limbs extended. 



Roan, chestnut, or grey. 

 The burst, ere 'tis ended. 



Shall try them to-day ! 



IV 



Well known is yon cover. 



And crag hanging o'er, 

 The little Red Rover 



Shall reach it no more ! 

 The foremost hounds near him. 



His strength 'gins to droop : 

 In pieces they tear him, 



Who-whoop ! Who-who-whoop ! 



"The Fox and the brambles 



A FABLE 



BEFORE the pack for many a mile 

 A Fox had sped in gallant style ; 

 But gasping with fatigue at last, 

 The clamorous hounds approach'd him fast ; 

 Though painful now the toilsome race, 

 With draggled brush and stealthy pace 

 Still onward for his life he flies — 

 He nears the wood — before him lies 

 A tangled mass of thorn and bramble ; 

 In vain beneath he tries to scramble, 

 So springing, heedless of his skin, 

 With desperate bound he leaps within. 



14 



