BOW-MEETING SONG 



The joyous hunter, he who cheers the pack. 

 His fleet steed urging over vale and hill, 

 Who shuns no hardship and who knows no fear. 



Or he, who bending o'er the desk his back, 

 In gas-lit office drives the flippant quill. 

 And talks of " vermin imports" with a sneer ? 



Bow-meeti7ig Song 



ARLEY HALL, SEPTEMBER 4, 1 85 I 



THE tent is pitch'd, the target rear'd, the ground 

 is measured out, 

 For the weak arm sixty paces, and one hundred for 



the stout ! 

 Come, gather ye together then, the youthful and the 



fair. 

 And poet's lay, to future day, the victor shall declare ! 



II 



Let busy fingers lay aside the needle and the thread, 



To prick the golden canvas with a pointed arrow- 

 head ; 



Ye sportsmen quit the stubble, quit, ye fishermen, 

 the stream, 



Fame and glory stand before you, brilliant eyes 

 around you beam. 



77 



