MR. J. CORBET— 1795. 



To Eyford and Halford — no time now to crane. 

 To turn over a fence, or to creep down a lane. 

 Thence to Holt, and away o'er the Downs of Cold Aston, 

 Ev'ry Sportsman well up rode a good and a fast one ; 

 Within two miles of Farmington Grove — ev'ry screw 

 Was by this time done up — others losing a shoe ! 



Off to Saperton Grove, a turn rather short — 

 No sinecure now to the Dons of the Sport ! 

 O'er the fine Gloster Hills Reynard shew'd us the way ; 

 All follow'd, who could, on this terrible day, 

 Till from fam'd Chelt'nam Spa we were miles only four. 

 From Gloster's old city but ten and no more, 

 When this gallant old fox did reluctantly yield 

 Up his life to the pack i' th' midst of a field ; 

 After leading us thirty-five miles — what a run ! 

 And point-blank twenty-three from the place it begun ! 



For thirty-five minutes stout reynard at first 

 Led us bravely along — how tremendous the burst ! 

 Cold hunting then follow'd the same length in time, 

 A welcome reprieve e'en to nags some call'd prime. 

 Fifty-two minutes more of desp'rate rumiing ; 

 No art could avail him, of trick or of cunning. 

 Out of scent into view — by a wonderful rush 

 Ev'ry hound got a sight of his long-flowing brush. 

 Tho' matchless in speed — in courage tho' valiant — 

 They kill'd him at last in a style th' most gallant ! 



What a Field in the morning — not less than five score 

 Eager Sportsmen appear'd — some said there were more. 

 What a brilliant day for stout nags and good riders ! 

 What a terrible blank to the tricksy outsiders ! 



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