3\lr. Bromley-Davenport 



Oh, glory of youth ! consolation of age ! 



SubHmest of ecstasies under the sun ; 

 Though the veteran may Hnger too long on the stage, 



Yet he '11 drink a last toast to a fox-hunting run. 

 And oh ! young descendants of ancient top-sawyers ! 



By your lives to the world their example enforce ; 

 Whether landlords, or parsons, or statesmen, or lawyers, 



Ride straight as they rode it from Ranksboro' Gorse. 



Though a rough-riding world may bespatter your breeches. 



Though sorrow may cross you, or slander revile, 

 Though you plunge overhead in misfortune's blind ditches. 



Shun the gap of deception, the hand-gate of guile : 

 Oh, avoid them ! for there, see the crowd is contending, 



Ignoble the object — ill-mannered the throng ; 

 Shun the miry lane, falsehood, with turns never ending. 



Ride straight for truth's timber, no matter how strong. 



I '11 pound you safe over ! sit steady and quiet ; 



Along the sound headland of honesty steer ; 

 Beware of false holloas and juvenile riot. 



Though the oxer of duty be wide, never fear ! 

 And when the run 's over of earthly existence. 



And you get safe to ground, you will fear no remorse. 

 If you ride it — no matter what line or what distance — 



As straight as your fathers from Ranksboro' Gorse. 



97 



