A POEM. 143 



They're surely yours. Springers, by far the best 

 Of sporting dogs, are for this work confest 

 By all to be : those parts which e'er are damp 

 At bottom, such with most success you'll tramp ; 

 But covers which are furnished with long grass, 

 You without fear of leaving Cocks may pass ; 

 To young plantations they've a great dislike : 

 Yet mind, where they are known to be, 'tis right, 

 When in the likeliest shaws they are not found, 

 To beat by all means, the unlikely ground. 

 When mild the weather is, the hedge rows try, 

 And open country ; when severe, they lie 

 In thick retreats, near to their usual food, 

 Glean'd from small streams, shelter'd by underwood. 

 As during night they mostly feed, whene'er 

 Cynthia entire o'er one presides, prepare 

 When morning dawns, for sport ; the hearty meal 

 Her beams have shown them, must their dest'nies 



seal. 



They rise unwillingly, and when they do, 

 If jou should miss, you will not long pursue, 



