University of Virginia Library

T' increase their sport, upon this festive night,
These bungling verses did a rhymer write:
“The poachers on the heath, the fields, the wood,
Or where the shining fishes cleave the flood,
Against the laws will yet pursue their sport,
And to the parks of distant lords resort,

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Though half their incomes were to keepers paid,
Though traps were set, and ev'ry scheme were laid,—
The poachers, heedless of the fine or shame,
In spite of all would sometimes steal the game.
Then those that would such things in safety keep,
Must catch, and couple them like straying sheep:
And lords who would make property of game,
Cut short their wings—like poultry keep them tame.
For 'tis a truth, and let it once be known,
A poacher's shot's oft surer than your own.”