96 KINGSLEY's " THE FIND. 



THE FIND. 



Yon sound's neither sheep-bell nor bark, 



They're running — they're running, Go hark ! 



The sport may be lost by a moment's delay ; 



So whip up the puppies and scurry away. 

 Dash down through the cover by dingle and dell. 

 There's a gate at the bottom — I know it full well ; 



And they're running — they're running, 



Go hark 1 



They're running — they're running. Go hark ! 



One fence and we're out of the park ; 



Sit down in your saddles and race at the brook, 



Then smash at the bullfinch ; no time for a look ; 

 Leave cravens and skirters to dangle behind; 

 He's away for the moors in the teeth of the wind, 



And they're running — they're running. 



Go hark ! 



They're running — they're running, Go hark ! 



Let them run on and run till its dark ! 



Well with them we are, and w^ell with them we'll be. 



While there's wind in our horses and daylight to see : 

 Then jog along homeward, chat over the fight. 

 And hear in our dreams the sweet music all night 



Of — They're running — they're running. 



Go hark ! 



Charles Kingsley. 

 Eversley Rectory, 



i8s6. 



