A POEM. 



31 



The Setter 's wild and wayward, and I fear 

 You'd find most want rebreaking ev'ry year ; 

 Which, should you fail, fruitless will be your toil, 

 Their only aim would seem, your sport to spoil; 

 But, after this, there 's ev'ry chance you may 

 Find them quite faultless, if you day by day 

 Keep them at work, and thus by constant dint 

 Of scourge and practice, on their minds imprint 

 That steadiness, without the which you'll need 

 No Solomon, to prove you can't succeed. 

 Should it so hap let it but be suppos'd, 

 That for a fortnight they no game have nos'd, 

 When next they're taken out, will do their best 

 To put your patience to severest test, 

 By putting up the game ; and seek t'amuse 

 Themselves, till stopp'd by whip-cord's frequent use. 

 To keep a Setter, then, I never would 



Advise a London man, however good, 



For unless constantly they're kept employ'd, 



The Sportsman's temper will be oft annoy'd. 



