MR. RUSSELL.— 1830. 215 



Distain'd, now sec the foamy side 

 Of panting steed with nostril wide. 

 Old Time near eighty minutes gain'd, 

 Ere we another view obtain'd. 

 The stoutest see of wily race 

 Leading away at swiftest pace, 

 Over the rich and fertile ground 

 That backs Edge Hill with grassy bound. 



Cold hxmting now the Field perplex'd, 

 The horses chill' d— the riders vex'd— 

 Or ended here a run had been. 

 The finest e'er by Sportsman seen. 



Catching again— so hot the scent, 

 Away the nags that could go, went ; 

 Others head-first, at pace of snail. 

 Pitching like kite with loss of tail. 

 Of nine score nags that pranc'd and rcar'd. 

 Not more than twenty now appear'd. 



Our fox once more away was view'd, 

 The sport with vigour we renew' d ; 

 Lifting the hounds a field or so. 

 Again they hit, and at him go. 



The hunting slow, yet sure and good j 

 In gorsy brake, or tangled wood, 

 In rocky hold, or noisome drain. 

 No shelter found, so facd the main. 

 In a large turnip field the pack 

 Threw the stout fellow on his back. 

 Describe, who can, the ardent joy 

 Of those who join'd the— Death- whoop cry 1 



