HUNTING SONGS 



HI 



All honour to the long-bow which many a battle 



won, 

 Ere powder blaz'd and bullet flew, from arquebus 



or gun ; 

 All honour to the long-bow, which merry men of 



yore, 

 With hound and horn at early morn, in greenwood 



forest bore. 



IV 



O ! famous is the archer's sport, 'twas honour'd 



long ago. 

 The God of Love, the God of Wit, bore both of 



them a bow ; 

 Love laughs to-day in beauty's eye and blushes on 



her cheek. 

 And wit is heard in every word, that merry archers 



speak ; 



The archer's heart, though, like his bow, a tough 



and sturdy thing. 

 Is pliant still and yielding, when affection pulls the 



string ; 

 All his words and all his actions are like arrows, 



pointed well 

 To hit that golden centre, where true love and 



friendship dwell. 



78 



