HUNTING SONGS 



Away ! rough or smooth, whether up-hill or down, 

 Through highway and byeway, through village and 



town ! 

 With that ease and that grace with which ladies can 



wheedle 

 Stubborn silk through the eye of a delicate needle, 

 Through the arch with huge portal on either side 



hung, 

 He his leaders can thrust whether restive or young ; 

 O'er the bridge at Bate's Mill he can twist at full 



speed, 

 Charioteering — which proves him a Wizard indeed. 



Faint harp-strings at night o'er his castle resound ; 

 Their tone when first heard by the country-folk 



round, 

 They fancied (so far it surpass'd human skill) 

 That angels were tuning their harps on the hill ; 

 It was strung, I knew well, by an angel inside. 

 The fingers that swept it were those of his bride. 



Oft-times they who deal in these magical arts 



Bear hatred and malice to man in their hearts ; 



But to enmity ne'er was this Wizard inclin'd, 



A well-dispos'd being to all human kind ; 



To console the afflicted, the poor to befriend. 



Of his magic, is still the sole object and end ; 



And each cottager's prayer is, that spells such as 



these 

 He may long live to work in this Valley of Cheese. 



156 



