MR. SHIRLEY.— 1824. I6l 



We met — those clouds of murky hue 

 Had now assum'd a sombre bkie ; 

 tEoIus, to diffuse the hght. 

 The mists dispers'd from human sight. . 

 No longer aw'd by sleet or rain, 

 Hope cheers the happy Field again. 



The busy hounds no sooner spoke. 

 Than boldly from the covert broke 

 A fine old fox as ever run. 

 The sire of many a felon son. 



On the qui vive each man and horse. 

 Quickly the hounds press him across 

 The country — then thro' Charlecote Park — 

 Where Poet Will had us'd to lark 

 By moonlight — and with cronies dight 

 Catch a fat buck or two at night. 



To right the Plesters coverts lay, 

 As pug, game fellow, led the way 

 Thro' the canal — where some who chose 

 Dash'd in, lest they the sport should lose. 

 Whilst they, the careful of their kind, 

 Rode here and there a bridge to find ! 



Darting the Warwick road across. 

 He took thro' Leamington his course. 

 When he, unkindly headed back. 

 Was thrown upon the vig'rous pack. 



Reynard, hard press'd, his brush to save. 

 Swam o'er the Avon's listless wave 

 To Leek Wootton — there's no respite. 

 Whether he turn to left or right. 



Tb 



