APPENDIX. 351 



Far from the south, a gallant three 



Have joined our sport to-day ; 

 Ind, quite oblivious of the gout, 



Upon his clever grey. 

 Sir Lumley, who on other, fields 



A sterner chase has led. 

 And face to face with England's foes. 



Has for his country bled ; 

 And Johnny Sands, no ruffian's charge. 



His genuine pluck could shake, 

 When prostrate by that cruel blow. 



He lay but half awake ; 

 Men say they heard his kindly lips 



Utter no other sounds 

 Than, " Friends, don't let me keep you here. 



Go on, and join the hounds." 



Here's Charrington, at Marden Ash, 



He'll lunch to-day by two ; 

 Here Spencer wears the famous coat. 



When will he have a new ? 

 Here's Elder with a " Miller,'" 



That right well grinds his corn, 

 And Sewell knows a maid, I ween, 



Not long to be forlorn. 

 Comes Edwards from where High Beech 



Raises its lofty spire. 

 And Hill, to join the Essex hounds, 



Forsakes his neighbouring shire ; 

 Here's Roly, too (those breeches 



Are surely not his own). 



The name of Mr. Eldei's horse. 



