SCENES FROJVl THE SADDLE. 



Over the Plain. 



Ho 1 for the song of the evening ride 

 When home from hunting returning ; 



Ho ! for a song when the shadows are long, 

 That early seek rest on the valley's breast, 

 And lie so light as they wait for the night 

 That the fair plain smiles like a maid caressed. 



Ho I for the way the vanishing day, 

 That ere it meets death, with its sweetest breath, 

 Gives a kiss which says, * We both go our ways,' 

 And winds round the hunter its airy wreath. 



Ho ! for the song as we canter along 



O'er the old grass fields, and the turf that yields 



To the feet, to the feet, with even beat, 



Or jog on the lane with its thorny shields. 



Oh ! for the song of the evening tide 

 When home from hunting returning. 



By the River. 



There's a spirit in the soft light 

 Of a rich-hued autumn day. 



There's a spirit in the bright tints 

 Of the dead leaves by the way, 



There's a spirit in the landscape 



Melting in the sun's low ray. 



These are joyous, but the river 

 Shining 'neath a peaceful sky, 



22 



