HISTORY OF THE KILDARE HUNT 



And none who takes share in the fox hunt to-day 

 'Ere midnight from Castletown's mansion shall 

 stray. 



" Hold hard, don't ride over the hounds! " What 



a scramble, 

 Away go the hounds in the wake of the fox. 

 Away go the horsemen through brushwood and 



bramble. 

 Away go they all o'er brooks, fences and rocks; 

 While the musical cry of the fleet-footed hound 

 Is ringing in chorus melodiously round 

 And the horseman who rides at the tail of the pack 

 Is a very tall gentleman dressed all in black. 

 Onward still, 'tis a spanking run 

 As e'er was seen by morning's sun; 

 Onward still 

 O'er plain and hill. 

 Gad! 'tis a pace the devil to kill 

 And now the boreen 

 With that rascally screen 

 Of furze on each bank. *' By Nim, that's a poser! 

 There's the black fellow at it. Gad! over he goes, 



Sir, 

 Well done, Conolly! stick to the nigger, you dog. 

 Though he seems old Beelzebub riding incog." 



Ha, Reynard, you're done for, my boy, at your back 

 Old Jowler and CUnker come leading the pack; 

 That squeeze in the gullet has finished your 



breath," 

 And that very black horseman is in at the death. 



32 



