BLOOD WILL TELL. 7 



The stile in the corner, the ditch, and the drop, 



It pounds both the brown and the grey ; 

 But the mare steadies down, with a lurch and a lop, 

 And both old one and young one go over it — pop ! 



Then forrard, still forrard away. 



See, there in the bank they have marked him to ground. 



This fox that made everyone ride. 

 The mare, who has led from the time that we found, 

 Is cropping the grass, with the hounds grouped around, 



^Vith the bonny foal close to her side. 



Three cheers for the science ! Three cheers for the chase ! 



Th° hounds that ne'er falter or tire ; 

 Three cheers for the cattle that join in the race, 

 The young and the old, with such exquisite grace, 



And the music that fills them with fire. 



And now, gentle reader, good-night, and farewell : 



We've ridden the run to the end. 

 The soft winter sunlight is lighting the dell, 

 And, journeying homewards, we talk and we tell 



How each sportsman is counted a friend. 



And long may it prosper, this pastime so fair, 



The chase that we cherish so dear. 

 Through the heart of the vale in the silvery air 

 May we still ride away from all trouble and care, 



With the hounds flying on to the cheer. 



