The Sport of Our Jincestors 



Thus ships when they no more can bide 

 The fury of the wind and tide, 

 If chance some tranquil port they spy, 

 Where vessels safely shelter 'd lie, 

 There seek a refuge from the gale, 

 Cast anchor, and let down the sail. 



The speed of horse, the pluck of man. 

 They needed both, who led the van ; 

 This Holmes can tell, who through the day 

 Was ever foremost in the fray ; 

 And Holloway, with best intent, 

 Still shivering timber as he went ; 

 And Williams, clinging to the pack 

 As if the League were at his back ; 

 And Tollit, ready still to sell 

 The Nag that carried him so well. 



A pretty sight at first to see 

 Young Pretyman on Modesty ! 

 But Pretyman went on so fast. 

 That Modesty took fright at last ; 

 So bent was she to shun disgrace 

 That in the brook she hid her face ; 

 So bashful, that to drag her out 

 They fetch 'd a team and tackle stout. 



When younger men of lighter weight 

 Some tale of future sport relate. 

 Let Whippy show the brush he won. 

 And tell them of the Tar Wood run ; 

 While Rival's portrait, on the wall, 

 Shall oft to memory recall 



60 



