164 



THE WARWICKSHIRE HOUNDS. 



Mr. H. Spencer 



Lucy. 



1866-1876. 



By the whole of the pack, and the sweet chorus grew, 



As quick to their leader the gallant hounds flew. 



He's away ! tallo-ho ! and as straight as a bolt 



Never doubting he points straight for Kineton's good Holt. 



'Tis a seven mile point, yet away with stout heart, 



Pug points for the cover as straight as a dart. 



Past Eatington Village, by Pillerton's side, 



The gallant hounds stream and the eager steeds stride ; 



With Orvis close to them, Sir Charles on his grey, 



By steam-plough or fences will not be said nay ; 



'Tis a pleasure, I vow, when the ground's steep and 



strong, 

 To see that good five-year-old bear him along. 

 Spencer Lucy, the master, too, goes like the wind. 

 And in deep ground, or sound ground, is not far behind ; 

 Lord Willoughby, too, as one safely may swear. 

 When hounds run their keenest is sure to be there. 

 And her Ladyship with him, not far in his rear ; 

 While George Smith, of Ailston, still keeps pretty near ; 

 John Mordaunt goes happily sailing along. 

 Be the ground ne'er so deep or the fences so strong ; 

 While on good "Charlie Foster " not far from the pack, 

 Shirley galloping on, on no fence shows his back. 

 But the cover is reached, and a slight pause ensues, 

 While a uumber discover the loss of their shoes ; 

 But away once again, and believe me my friend. 

 Not a nag once stood still from the find to the end. 

 In the Holt, as they cautiously picked the line through, 

 Horses came to a walk, all the respite they knew ; 

 And though " just cast a shoe "excused nags that were 



done. 

 With no hat one man went to the end of the run. 

 But away once again they seemed ready to kill. 

 And go screaming along, straight away to Edge Hill, 

 And if I might borrow a couplet from Scott, 

 I could tell how of riders a fair goodly lot. 

 Tightened reins and, in sooth, it was quite in despair. 

 When they saw straight in front Edge Hills' crest rise in 



air ; 

 But still on, on again, for no check here occurred. 

 And away once again, straight as flight of a bird. 

 For'ard still raced the hounds and the pace was the best 

 Along the steep slopes to the said Edge Hills' crest. 

 Then down once again, close by Arlescote below. 

 Straight pointing for Warmington, on the hounds go. 

 And they scream o'er the line, o'er those pastures of grass. 

 Though no longer we stick to them here, for alas ! 

 It much grieves me to say for the sake of our shire, 

 That down hear we hear horrible murmurs of " wire," 

 That terrible word quite sufficient to quell 

 The ardour of those who had followed so well. 



