INDIAN SPORTING SONGS. 321 



H. 



Away, away, nor jungles heed, 

 Ply well the spear, increase your speed, 

 For glory's in the daring deed, 



The path where fame and honour tread. 



III. 



Near and more near's the panting nag, 

 The weary boar begins to lag, 

 Unceasing still, he yet does fag, 



To gain the covert of yon ' bheer/ 



IV. 



His vicious eye is backward cast, 

 And views his foes approaching fast ; 

 Soon must the monster breathe his last 

 Without a shade of dread or fear. 



V. 



The dusty soil is tinged with red, 

 For true and strong the spear has sped 

 That sent him to his gory bed, 



E'en in his strength and savage might. 



YI. 



But did he die alone, that boar ? 

 The gallant steed that swiftly bore 

 His master on he ripped and tore, 



Before his vengeful soul took flight. 



C. 



Oriental Sporting Magazine,' 

 August, 1832. 



