322 SHIKAR SKETCHES. 



THE HUNTER'S SONG. 



I. 



We value not false woman's kiss, 

 We value not the miser's bliss, 

 We care not for the gourmand's joy, 

 The rich ragout or savoury soy ; 

 'Tis claret cool and Hodgson's ale, 

 'Tis the steep hill and rocky dale, 

 The deep ravine, the thorny * bheer,' 

 The Arab nag, the small sharp spear, 

 The glorious burst, the savage roar, 

 The madness of the maddened boar, 

 That makes us value life alone ; 

 Nor love, nor wealth, nor despot's throne 

 Could tempt us from these joys to roam. 



II. 



Let fools with women wile away 

 The precious hours of youthful day ; 

 Let sots with drink their senses drown ; 

 Let bays the studious temple crown ; 

 Let plodding souls heap up their dross, 

 And nightly dream of gain, or loss 

 A boar to us is comlier far 

 Than Venus in her dove-drawn car ; 



