304 SHIKAR SKETCHES. 



II- 

 Fly onward, my steed ; see, the monster before us, 



Still struggling right upward the hill-top to clear ; 

 And hark to the tinkers ' all roaring in chorus, 

 They view him, they press him shall they win 



the * spear ' ? 

 Heed not the broad river. Oh, well we've got thro' 



it; 



Now strain for the steep, though a mountain it be ; 

 And now for the nullah ! I knew we could do it ; 

 Then onward, my Arab, bound onward with me. 



III. 



Now gently, my steed, for we're close to his quarters, 



I hear his gruff grunt as he slow lobs along ; 

 Full soon shall he add to the list of our slaughters 



Full soon shall his death be recorded in song. 

 There ! tJiat's thro' and thro' him he staggers he 

 stops 



He sinks to the dust with his blood flowing free ; 

 And here come the ' tinkers ' in time for the chops 



Hurrah ! then, my Arab, now homeward with me ! 



S. Y. S. 



'Oriental Sporting Magazine,' 

 August, 1832. 



