41 



Yonder they go, see the last disappearing ; 



All the gay squadron go gallantly by ; 

 Fainter and fainter you hear the men cheering, 



Fainter the echo that floats to the sky. 



Is it not well that all sportsmen should follow 

 Where pride and position are cast to the wind ? 



Is it not well that the horn and the halloa 

 Bind us in heart and unite us in mind ? 



Broad are our principles, gladly we greet them, 

 Men of all grades, both the great and the small, 



Each one is welcome, we feel, when we meet them, 

 Something in harmony binding us all. 



Leave us the chase, where, in harmony blending, 

 Men of all classes ride on to the end ; 



Men become brothers, each brother contending ; 

 Every true sportsman is counted a friend. 



Long may it prosper, the pastime we cherish, 

 Long may the gallop be heard on the lea, 



Long be the day ere our stag-hunting perish, 

 Long may the chase be unfettered and free. 



