The Sport of Our Ancestors 



When joviality 

 Chafes formaUty, 

 When hospitality 



Cellars unlocks ; 

 Song shall declare a way 

 How to drive care away, 

 Pain and despair away, 



Hunting the fox. 



TAR WOOD 



(a run with the heythrop) 



He waited not — he was not found — 



No warning note from eager hound. 

 But echo of the distant horn, 

 From outskirts of the cover borne. 

 Where Jack the Whip in ambush lay, 

 Proclaim'd that he was gone away. 



Away ! ere yet that blast was blown. 

 The fox had o'er the meadow flown ; 

 Away ! away ! his flight he took. 

 Straight pointing for the Windrush brook ! 



The Miller, when he heard the pack. 

 Stood tiptoe on his loaded sack. 

 He view'd the fox across the flat. 

 And, needless signal, waved his hat ; 

 He saw him clear with easy stride 

 The stream by which the mill was plied ; 

 Like phantom fox he seem'd to fly. 

 With speed unearthly flitting by. 



54 



