MR. J. CORBET— 1807. 



The burst, (perhaps Melton will smile while it reads,) 

 Was so quick that it took something out of the steeds ; 

 Nay, to speak the whole truth, many found it too fast. 

 And some very crack riders were looking aghast. 



Squire Kynaston, 1 mounted on Whalebone the tough. 

 Found he'd lost a fore-shoe — that's to say, had enough ; 

 And Cromie, who came just to see them throw off. 

 And at all that he saw predetermin'd to scoff, 

 AUow'd, that for once his opinion was wrong. 

 And confess'd with a sigh that they could go along ! 



Many others, contented, went quietly home. 

 Little dreaming, I ween, of the pleasure to come ; 

 And a few, whilst debating to stay or to go. 

 For the former resolv'd when they heard — Tallyho ! 



Tallyho with a vengeance — for strange to recount. 

 Scarce allowing us time our nags to remount. 

 Another stout reynard went boldly away. 

 For Wimberton making most desperate play. 

 Now headed, and forc'd his first point to decline. 

 To Epwell push'd forward as straight as a line ; 

 Finding there nothing left for his life but to run. 

 He resolv'd to die game, and to shew them some fun : 

 So thro' Swacliffe's plantations intrejiidly went. 

 Passing Hook Norton Heath with a fine burning scent ; 

 Where a few of the oldest put on a wry face. 

 And the young ones no longer complain'd of the pace. 



From thence, quite determin'd to give us our fill. 

 For Swarford he made, and went right up the hill ; 



1 Mr. R. Kynaston, near Chapel House, Oxfordshire. 



