THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 205 



And plenty gives to the poor and old who enter at 



his gate ; 

 Like a fine old hunting Squire, one of the present 



day. 



His custom is, when at the Meet, to welcome great 



and small, 

 And a hearty greeting gives he to friends and 



neighbours all ; 

 'Tis here the laugh and joke and jest right merrily 



go round, 

 " But hark, my boys! pray, cease your noise; for 



now sly Reynard's found! " 

 Cries our fine old hunting Squire, one of the present 



day. 



Although threescore and ten his years, he boldly 



takes the lead, 

 And flies the gate, the brook, and wall, and sweeps 



along the mead ; 

 He never swerves nor cranes — not he; his true 



heart's in the sport. 

 Oh ! our fine old hunting Squire is one of the right 



sort! 

 A fine old hunting Squire, one of the present day. 



From scent to view they run him now, in vain fleet 



Reynard flies. 

 The ringing pack have doomed his death — he 



struggles, but he dies ! 

 And at the finish who was there? Why he who at 



the burst 

 lied the boldest and the best, in the foremost flight 



was first — 

 Our fine old hunting Squire, one of the present day. 



