HUNTING SONGS 



VIII 



I remember, though warn'd by the voice of Tom 



Ranee — 

 " Have a care of that fence " — how we ventur'd the 



chance ; 

 How we faced it and fell — from the depth of the drain 

 How we pick'd ourselves up and were with 'em 



again. 



IX 



Over meadows of water, through forests of wood, 

 Over grass-land or plough, there is nothing like blood ; 

 Whate'er place I coveted, thou, my good mare. 

 Despite of all hindrances, landed me there. 



X 



The dearest of friends I that man must account, 

 To whom on her saddle I proffer a mount ; 

 And that friend shall confess that he never yet knew. 

 Till he handled my pet, what a flyer could do. 



XI 



Should dealers comedown from the Leicestershire vale. 

 And turn with good gold thy own weight in the scale, 

 Would I sell thee ? not I, for a millionaire's purse ! 

 Through life we are wedded for better for worse. 



XII 



I can feed thee, and pet thee, and finger thy mane. 

 Though I ne'er throw my leg o'er thy quarters again ; 

 Gold shall ne'er purchase one lock of thy hair. 

 Death alone shall bereave the old man of his mare. 

 1871. 

 160 



