HUNTING SONGS 



With closing daylight, when our pastime ends, 

 Together dining, we will part good friends ; 

 And home returning to his gas-lit court, 

 His mind enlighten'd by a good day's sport, 

 Of hounds and hunting some slight knowledge then 

 Shall guide the goose-quill, when he writes again. 



Tar porky Swan - Hopp i?ig ' 



NOVEMBER 6, I 862 

 1 



WHEN a Swan takes to singing they say she 

 will die, 

 But our Tarporley Swan proves that legend a lie ; 

 For a hundred years past she has swung at this door. 

 May she swing there and sing there a thousand years 

 more ! 



II 

 l^ara avis in terris our Swan though not black. 

 Though white her own pinions and white her own 



back, 

 Still her flock, in November full-feather'd, are seen 

 Resplendent in plumage of scarlet and green. 



Ill 



Heralds sayshe is sprung from that White Swanof yore 

 Which our Sires at Blore Heath tothe battle-field bore; 

 When Qucesitum tneritis, loyal and true. 

 Their swords Cheshire men for Queen Margaret drew. 



* Note 43. 

 128 



