NOVEMBER. 55 



( lose by the side of each sportsman is riding 



The shade of some friend who has loved him in chase, 



Rousing him, helping him, stirring, and guiding 

 The hunter who bears him with mettle and pace. 



There down in Leicestershire, silently sailing, 



Assheton Smith flies o'er the fields of the Quorn, 



Tackling the double and topping the railing, 

 (Hiding along to the sound of the horn. 



Loatland's fair covert shows Goodall intently 

 Watching the entry he bred with such care ; 



"Gently, my bonny lads ; gently hounds, gently ! " 

 Mystical whispers are stirring the air. 



Newsman and Rhymer are gracefully speeding 



Over the ploughs of the Oakley to day, 

 Guiding their sons, who are true to their breeding, 



Stooping and driving and streaming away. 



Lead us, O shades of true sportsmen departed ! 



Move us to gallop and rouse us to ride ; 

 Bind us in friendship sincere and true-hearted, 



Phantoms of sportsmen still ride by our side. 



Speak to us still when the horn and the holloa 

 Ring through the woodland and rise to the sky ; 



Speak in the notes of the hounds that we follow. 

 Crashing together and scouiingto cry. 



