98 OVER THE MOORLAND. 



Brow, bay, and trey, see him pause on the heather, 

 Standing majestically, game for a spring ; 



( iraceful in attitude, light as a feather, 

 Bold as a lion, and proud as a king. 



Over the moorland so easily stealing, 



Past the Doone Valley and Hoccombe away ; 



On to the skyline, the good stag is feeling 



The breeze in his face, for he means it to-day. 



Lay on the pack, they are eager and ready ; 



Quickly they own it and gamely they try ; 

 All the field waiting by Shepherd's Cot. Steady ! 



Over the moorland we gallantly fly. 



Scouring to cry, see them lashing and driving. 



" Forrard, away ! " hark at Anthony's cheer. 

 Over the watercourse, every hound striving 



Hard for a place, while we ride in the rear. 



Onward by Stoford the good stag is leading, 

 At the weir water he stands in the stream. 



Mark him at bay ; but his heart and his breeding 

 Stand in good stead on the moor, it would seem. 



Over the moorland, still onward we press him, 

 Through Culbone Plantation he sinks to the sea ; 



And though we are eager to kill him we bless him, 

 This king of the forest, so fearless and free. 



