FULL CRY 



Yonder he goes ! 



Like a withered brown leaf that a hurricane blows : 



Yarn-der 'e goes ! 



And we speed him, who viewed him, with shrill tally-hos. 



A scarlet flash and a twangling horn. 



The branches crash in the thick-set thorn. 

 And opens before us the swell of the chorus 



Like bells for a festival rung : 

 Hounds — hounds — hounds — hounds — 



Galloping, galloping shoulder for shoulder, and tongue 

 giving answer to tongue. 



Yonder he goes ! 



Up the ploughland beyond where the yellow stream 



flows : 

 Yarn-der 'e goes ! 

 Or a shadow ran under the rooks as they rose. 



The ridges whirl with the wild black wings, 



The waters swirl as the blood mare springs. 

 Nor falters before us the chime of the chorus 



Like bells in the valley well rung : 

 Hounds — hounds — hounds — hounds — 



Galloping, galloping shoulder for shoulder, and tongue 

 giving answer to tongue. 



34 



