Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, FOX-HUNTING; A SONG, by LEONARD HOWARD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

FOX-HUNTING; A SONG, by                    
First Line: Come rise, lads, and mount, the brisk fox-hunters cry
Last Line: And fox-hunting flourish a thousand years hence.
Subject(s): Foxes; Hunting; Hunters


Come rise, lads, and mount, the brisk fox-hunters cry,
We've got a strong scent and a favouring sky;
The horn's sprightly notes and the lark's early song,
With their music expose you for sleeping so long.

Bright Phœbus has shown you a glimpse of his face,
Peeps in at your windows, and calls to the chase;
He soon will be up, for his dawn wears away,
And he'll make the field blush for your idle delay.

Sweet Molly may tease you again to lie down,
And if you should leave her, perhaps she will frown;
But tell her soft love must to hunting give place,
For as well as her charms there are charms in a chase.

Then we'll over the hedges nor stop at the gate,
Nor mind fearful riders of danger who prate:
Neck or nothing, my boys, is the fox-hunter's cry,
And Elysium's our field if in this we should die.

Look yonder! Look yonder! Old Renard I see,
Sweet Flora and Chanter at his brush soon will be:
Hark forward, they've snapt him, look, his eye-balls they roll,
Let's be in at the death then go home to our bowl.

There the chase we'll renew, fill a glass to the king;
From a bumper fresh sport and fresh duty will spring.
To great George peace and glory may heaven dispense,
And fox-hunting flourish a thousand years hence.





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