As he mended his outlines I, next, did incline 

 To try him with hounds, to see what was his line. 

 We met at the village ; we found in the vale ; 

 The bruisers came thickly by road and by rail. 



How quickly they found and went streaming away, 

 The first day I rode him, the flea-bitten grey ! 

 He went like a hunter ; I fancied his stride, 

 So I sent him along and went on with the tide. 



And soon I discovered he knew how to go ; 

 He knew all about it, the quick and the. slow. 

 Through the gap in the covert he crept like a snail, 

 And galloped as fast as you liked at the rail. 



There were five of us up when we checked in the road 

 The pace was a " buster," as most of them showed. 

 The grey was as cool and as fresh as could be ; 

 He was going at ease, and was galloping free. 



I knew I had one who could gallop and stay, 

 The first time I hunted the flea-bitten grey ; 

 Then five of us quickly went down to the brook — 

 We none of us had any time for a look. 



Four horses were seen in a terrible plight ; 

 Four riders were all more or less in a fright. 

 One shouted aloud, " It is useless to try ; 

 No horse in the world can do this at a fly." 



