THE WARWICKSHIRE HOUNDS. 



Mr. John Corbet "With the hounds at his brush, in full view for a mile ; 

 1791-1811. Was next seen in a Bottom, and there headed back, 

 And whilst climbing the steep fell a prey to the pack. 

 The burst— perhaps Melton will smile when he reads — 

 Was so quick, that it took something out of the steeds ; 

 Nay, to speak the whole truth, many found it too fast, 

 And various crack riders were looking aghast. 



The first work of Such was the little work which acted as the lever de 

 the day. rideau to the main item of the day's programme. As 



I before remarked, topographical particulars are alto- 

 gether missing, but I trust many of my readers, know 

 what a burst from rEpwell means. You will need a 

 a good mount, my friend, when you meet "the 

 Warwickshire " between Banbury and the ridge of 

 Edgehill. Grass vales abound ; it is a continual up and 

 down, with a little taste of water, as you cross the 

 brook which is usually found at the bottom of each. 

 After this piece of work, with scarcely time to remount, 



The great run. ^^^ larger matter commenced, and we may imagine the 

 condition in which the majority had to face it. 

 I return°^to the words of thejauthor. 



Tally-ho ! with a vengeance, for strange to recount, 



Scarce allowing a moment, our nags to remount, 



Another stout Reynard went boldly away, 



And for Wimberton made a most desperate play. 



How headed, and forc'd his first point to decline, 



To Epwell push'd forward as straight as a line ; 



Finding there nothing left for his life but to run, 



He resolv'd to die game and show them some fun ; 



So through Swalcliffe Plantations, he rapidly went, 



Passing Hook Norton Heath, with a fine burning scent. 



Where a few of the boldest, put on a wry face, 



And the young ones no longer complain'd of the pace ; 



From thence quite determin'd to give us our.fill, 



For Swerford he made, and went straight up the hill ; 



Cross'd the road at a speed that made somegpeople stare, 



And was fatal, poor Fretwell, alas, to your mare ; 



Close push'd, towards Heythrop despairing he roves, 



But in vain, for the scent ev'ry moment improves ; 



Till at length, having gone twenty miles right on end 



At a rate that the oldest man out never kenn'd. 



Having fiU'd the whole country with falls and disasters, 



Nearly kill'djall the nags, and well pickled theirjmasters, 



He was kill'd in the park|just when going to ground, 



About twenty-three miles from the place he was found ! 



