66 REMINISCENCES OF 



THE KING OF THE KENNEL. 



Dedicated to John Anstruther Thomson, Esq., by G. J. Whyte-Melville. 

 " Clara fuga, ante alios, et primus in aequore pulvis." 



The sire from the Belvoir, the dam from the Quorn, 

 The pick of their litter our puppy was born ; 

 And the day he was entered he flew to the horn, 

 But rating and whipcord he treated with scorn. 



Gently, Bachelor ! 



Have a care ! Have a care ! 



So eager to find, and so gallant to draw, 

 Though a wilder in covert a huntsman ne'er saw, 

 'Twas a year and a half ere he'd listen to law, 

 And many's the leveret hung out of his maw. 



'Ware hare, Bachelor ! 



'Ware hare ! 'Ware hare ! 



On the straightest of legs and the roundest of feet, 

 With ribs like a frigate his timbers to meet, 

 With a fashion and fling and a form so complete, 

 That to see him dance over the flags is a treat ! 



Here, here, boy ! Bachelor ! 



Handsome and good ! 



But fashion and form without nose are in vain, 

 And in March or mid-winter, storm, sunshine and rain, 

 When the line has been foiled, or the sheep leave a stain, 

 His fox he accounts for again and again. 



Yooi ! Wind him, Bachelor, 



All through the wood ! 



He guides them in covert, he leads them in chase, 

 Though the young and the jealous try hard for his place : 

 'Tis Bachelor always is first in the race 

 He beats them for nose, and he beats them for pace. 



Hark forward to Bachelor ! 



From daylight to dark ! 



Where the fallows are dry, where manure has been thrown, 

 With a storm in the air, with the ground like a stone, 

 When we're all in a muddle, beat, baffled, and blown, 

 See ! Bachelor has it ! Bill, let him alone ! 



Speak to it, Bachelor ! 



Go hark to him ! Hark ! 



