HUNTING SONGS 



The chace began, I shar'd its maddening glee, 

 And rode amid the foremost in that run, 

 Whose end, far distant, Love had well foretold. 



Her dwelling lay betwixt my home and me ; 

 We met, still lingering ere it sunk, the sun 

 O'erspread her blushes with a veil of gold. 



T'he Tantivy Trot ^ 



r 



HERE'S to the old ones, of four-in-hand fame, 

 Harrison, Peyton, and Ward, Sir ! 

 Here's to the fast ones that after them came, 

 Ford and the Lancashire Lord, Sir ! 

 Let the steam pot 

 Hiss till it's hot. 

 Give me the speed of the Tantivy Trot. 



II 

 Here's to the team, Sir ! all harness'd to start. 



Brilliant in Brummagem leather ; 

 Here's to the waggoner, skill'd in the art. 

 Coupling the cattle together. 



Let the steam pot, &c. 



Ill 



Here's to the dear little damsels within, 

 Here's to the swells on the top. Sir ! 



Here's to the music in three feet of tin. 

 And here's to the tapering crop. Sir ! 

 Let the steam pot, &c. 



* Note 33. 

 36 



