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48
Cheshire Chivalry.
[_]
On the 23rd of December, 1837, the Cheshire Hounds found a fox in the plantation adjoining Tilston Lodge. Running directly to the house, he baffled for a time all further pursuit by leaping through a window pane into the dairy. When captured, he was turned out at Wardle Gorse, and after an unusually quick burst, in the course of which he crossed two canals, was killed at Cholmondeston.
I
Unpunish'd shall Reynard our dairies attack,His fate unrecorded in song?
Ah! no; when the captive was loos'd from a sack,
There was not, fair milk-maid, a hound in the pack,
But was bent on avenging thy wrong.
II
Would that those who imagine all chivalry o'er,Had encounter'd our gallant array;
Ne'er a hundred such knights, e'en in ages of yore,
Took the field in the cause of one damsel before,
As were seen in the saddle that day.
III
Their high-mettled courage no dangers appal,So keen was the ardour display'd;
49
Some gallantly stem the deep waters, and all
For the sake of the pretty milk-maid.
IV
For thirty fast minutes Pug fled from his foes,Nor a moment for breathing allow'd;
When at Cholm'stone the skurry was brought to a close,
The nags that had follow'd him needed repose,
As their panting and sobbing avow'd.
V
There, stretch'd on the greensward, lay Geoffry the stout,His heels were upturn'd to the sky,
From each boot flow'd a stream, as it were from a spout,
Away stole the fox ere one half had run out,
And away with fresh vigour we fly!
VI
Once more to the water, though harass'd and beat,The fox with a struggle swam through;
Though the churn that he tainted shall never be sweet,
His heart's blood ere long shall our vengeance complete,
And the caitiff his villany rue.
50
VII
Stout Geoffry declar'd he would witness the killShould he swim in the saddle till dark;
Six horsemen undauntedly follow'd him still,
Till the fate that awaited the steed of Sir Phil
Put an end to this merry mud lark.
VIII
Back, back, the bold Baronet roll'd from the shore,Immers'd overhead in the wave;
The Tories 'gan think that the game was all o'er,
For their member was missing a minute or more
Ere he rose from his watery grave.
IX
Quoth Tollemache, more eager than all to make fail,(A soul that abhorreth restraint,)
“Good doctor,” quoth he, “since thy remedies fail,
Since blister, nor bleeding, nor pill-box avail,
Cold bathing may suit my complaint.”
X
When Williams past o'er, at the burden they boreThe waters all trembled with awe;
For the heaving canal, when it wash'd him ashore,
Ne'er had felt such a swell on its surface before,
As the swell from the Leamington Spa.
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XI
Harry Brooke, as a bird o'er the billow would skim,Must have flown to the furthermost brink;
For the moisture had reach'd neither garment nor limb,
There was not a speck the boot polish to dim,
Nor a mudstain to tarnish the pink.
XII
The fox looking back, saw them fathom the tide,But was doom'd, ere they cross'd it, to die;
Who-whoop may sound sweeter by far on that side,
But, thinks I to myself, I've a twenty-mile ride,
And as yet my good leather is dry.
XIII
Life-guardsman! why hang down in sorrow thy head?Could our pack such a fast one outstrip?
Looking down at the ditch where his mare lay for dead,
“Pray, which way to Aston,” he mournfully said,
And uptwisted the hair of his lip.
XIV
Though of milk and of water I've made a long tale,When a livelier liquor's display'd,
I've a toast that will suit either claret or ale,
Good sport to the Kennel! success to the Pail!
And a health to the pretty Milk-maid!
1837.
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