 | Hunting Songs |  |
The Close of the Season.
Spring! I will give you the reason in rhyme
Why for hunting I hold it the pleasantest time,
When the gorse 'gins to blossom, the hazel to sprout,
When Spring flowers and Spring captains together come out.
Why for hunting I hold it the pleasantest time,
When the gorse 'gins to blossom, the hazel to sprout,
When Spring flowers and Spring captains together come out.
When with smiles and with sunshine all nature looks gay,
When the fair one, equipped in fresh hunting array,
No splash of mud dirt to encumber the skirt,
Though no fox should be found, may find leisure to flirt.
When the fair one, equipped in fresh hunting array,
No splash of mud dirt to encumber the skirt,
Though no fox should be found, may find leisure to flirt.
When assured of success, ere the steeplechase day,
Jones writes to his tailor imploring delay,
When the silk jacket wins he will pay for the pink,
Is the promise, when written, worth paper and ink?
Jones writes to his tailor imploring delay,
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Is the promise, when written, worth paper and ink?
November's young fox, as yet timid and shy,
O'er a country unknown will scarce venture to fly;
One spared through the winter to wander astray,
Leads the pack stoutly back to his home far away.
O'er a country unknown will scarce venture to fly;
One spared through the winter to wander astray,
Leads the pack stoutly back to his home far away.
Chill'd by checks and wrong casts, which the scurry impede,
You may chance in December to lose a good steed;
And what rider unvex'd can his temper restrain,
Urging home a tired hunter through darkness and rain!
You may chance in December to lose a good steed;
And what rider unvex'd can his temper restrain,
Urging home a tired hunter through darkness and rain!
Trotting homeward in Spring on the hope we rely
That we reach it ere dark with our hunting-coat dry;
The horse undistress'd by the work he has done,
The rider well pleased with his place in the run.
That we reach it ere dark with our hunting-coat dry;
The horse undistress'd by the work he has done,
The rider well pleased with his place in the run.
204
This world, can it show such a picture of woe
As a frozen-out Master imprison'd in snow?
His feet on the fender he rides his arm-chair,
Even ‘Baily’ avails not to soothe his despair.
As a frozen-out Master imprison'd in snow?
His feet on the fender he rides his arm-chair,
Even ‘Baily’ avails not to soothe his despair.
Old steeds there may be, showing signs of decay,
Lagging last in the field where they once led the way,
With the glory o'er-burthen'd of gallops bygone,
Less of spring in their action as Spring cometh on.
Lagging last in the field where they once led the way,
With the glory o'er-burthen'd of gallops bygone,
Less of spring in their action as Spring cometh on.
Good sport with good cheer merry Christmas may bring,
But the joy of all joys is a gallop in Spring,
By the thought, when a brook we encounter made bold,
That the stream is less rapid, the water less cold.
But the joy of all joys is a gallop in Spring,
By the thought, when a brook we encounter made bold,
That the stream is less rapid, the water less cold.
When each cheer is by song of sweet birds echoed back,
Their music a prelude to that of the pack;
When clouds soft and southerly streak the blue sky,
When the turf is elastic and scent is breast high.
Their music a prelude to that of the pack;
When clouds soft and southerly streak the blue sky,
When the turf is elastic and scent is breast high.
Pleasure's sweetness, says Moore, is so slow to come forth,
That ne'er till it dies do we know half its worth;
What the joy which first welcomes the sport when begun,
To the keenness inspired by the season's last run!
That ne'er till it dies do we know half its worth;
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To the keenness inspired by the season's last run!
Postscript.
Exceptions there will be, and Spring, as we know,
On her face will sometimes wear a mask of white snow,
A note of this fact we may henceforth affix
To March eighteen hundred and seventy-six.
On her face will sometimes wear a mask of white snow,
A note of this fact we may henceforth affix
To March eighteen hundred and seventy-six.
Such grieves us the more, since to visit our shore
And to share in our sport, a fair Empress came o'er;
Still, howe'er chill and cheerless our climate this year,
Warm hearts are not wanting to welcome her here.
And to share in our sport, a fair Empress came o'er;
Still, howe'er chill and cheerless our climate this year,
Warm hearts are not wanting to welcome her here.
Oft again may her presence our hunting field grace,
When Spring more invitingly smiles on the chase;
Well indeed in that sport may all England take pride,
Which can lure such a guest here a-hunting to ride.
When Spring more invitingly smiles on the chase;
Well indeed in that sport may all England take pride,
Which can lure such a guest here a-hunting to ride.
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