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86
Bowmeeting Song.
ARLEY HALL, SEPTEMBER 4, 1851.
I
The tent is pitch'd, the target rear'd, the ground is measured out,For the weak arm sixty paces, and one hundred for the stout!
Come, gather ye together then, the youthful and the fair,
And poet's lay, to future day, the victor shall declare!
II
Let busy fingers lay aside the needle and the thread,To prick the golden canvas with a pointed arrowhead;
Ye sportsmen quit the stubble, quit, ye fishermen, the stream,
Fame and glory stand before you, brilliant eyes around you beam.
III
All honour to the long-bow which many a battle won,Ere powder blaz'd and bullet flew, from arquebus or gun;
87
With hound and horn at early morn, in greenwood forest bore.
IV
O! famous is the archer's sport, 'twas honour'd long ago,The God of Love, the God of Wit, bore both of them a bow;
Love laughs to-day in beauty's eye and blushes on her cheek,
And wit is heard in every word, that merry archers speak;
V
The archer's heart, though, like his bow, a tough and sturdy thing,Is pliant still and yielding, when affection pulls the string;
All his words and all his actions are like arrows, pointed well
To hit that golden centre, where true love and friendship dwell.
VI
They tell us in that outline which the lips of beauty show,How Cupid found a model for his heart-subduing bow;
88
A feather from love's wing it is, that makes the arrow fly!
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