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Hawkstone Bow-Meeting.
“Celeri certare sagittâ
Invitat qui forte velint, et præmia ponit.”
Æn. lib. v.
Invitat qui forte velint, et præmia ponit.”
Æn. lib. v.
I
Farewell to the Dane and the WeaverFarewell to the horn and the hound!
The Tarporley Swan, I must leave her
Unsung till the season come round;
42
My bridle and saddle below,
I call on the Muse and adorn her
With baldrick, and quiver, and bow.
II
Bright Goddess! assist me, recountingThe names of toxophilites here,
How Watkin came down from the mountain,
And Mainwaring up from the Mere;
Assist me to fly with as many on
As the steed of Parnassus can take,
Price, Parker, Lloyd, Kynaston, Kenyon,
Dod, Cunliffe, Brooke, Owen and Drake.
III
To witness the feats of the Bowmen,To stare at the tent of the Bey,
Merrie Maidens and ale-drinking Yeomen
At Hawkstone assemble to-day.
From the lord to the lowest in station,
From the east of the shire to the west,
Salopia's whole population
Within the green valley comprest.
IV
In the hues of the target appearing,Now the bent of each archer is seen;
The widow to sable adhering,
The lover forsaken to green;
43
One shaft at the centre is sped;
Another a love tale betraying,
Is aim'd with a blush at the red.
V
Pride pointing profanely at heaven,Humility sweeping the ground,
The arrow of gluttony driven
Where ven'son and sherry abound!
At white see the maiden unmated
The arrow of innocence draw,
While the shaft of the matron is fated
To fasten its point in the straw.
VI
Tell, fated with Gessler to grappleTill the tyrannous Bailiff was slain,
Let Switzerland boast of the apple
His arrow once sever'd in twain;
We've an Eyton could prove to the Switzer,
Such a feat were again to be done,
Should our host and his Lady think fit, Sir,
To lend us the head of their son!
VII
The ash may be graceful and limber,The oak may be sturdy and true;
44
To rival the old British yew!
You may roam through all lands, but there's no land
Can sport such as Salop's afford,
And the Hill of all Hills is Sir Rowland!
The hero of heroes my Lord!
1835.
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