WARWICKSHIRE HUNT. 



THE SAME BY VENATOR. 



Only on Britain's fertile ground, 

 Is bred the true and perfect hound ; 

 From them, in other climes, we trace 

 A weak, degen'rate, feeble race. 

 'Tis thine to train the sprightly steed. 

 With hound unmatch'd in scent and speed. 

 Hail ! land of freedom ! — happy, gay. 

 Thus saitli the poet in his lay. 1 



What a Field of fine Sportsmen — how princely the throng ! 



Youll soon be in action, and dashing along. 



Your nags in prime order this day must be found. 



Or you'll quickly lose sight of the Field and the hound ; 



'Tis a fine-scenting morn, and few Sportsmen yet 



In nose, wind, and speed, their equals have met. . 



At fam'd Wolford Heath, having Shipston in view. 

 The pack first caught scent, and quick on it they flew ; 

 Hark, the challenge ! the game is just rous'd from his den. 

 And the pack, in sweet music, respond it again. 

 'Tis a famous old fox — tho' crafty and stout, 

 I'll bet a cool hundred they'll soon have him out; 

 After skulking, sly vagabond, once round the cover. 

 The hounds at his brush — away bolted the rover ! 



To Ilmington Heath, and o'er Norton Common, 

 They went at a split exceeded by no man ; 

 O'er Evenlode Heath, and Longboro' Lees, 

 The scent it lay well, and delightful the breeze ; 

 To Donington next, and thorough Scott's Brake, 

 The nags all alive, and no man broke his neck ! 



1 William Somerville, Esq. author of that fine poem, ' The Chase.' 

 He died at Wootton Wawen, in the county of Warwick, in 1742, and 

 was buried in the family vault in the rhapcl at that place. 



