THE HUNTSMAN. the east tips the mountains with gold, ws all spangled with dew-drops behold; y matin proclaims the new day, cheerful summons rebukes our delay: orts of the field there's no pleasure can we follow the hounds in full cry. of the town make riches his sport, of the state hunt the smiles of the court; mbition our patience annoy, still gives us zeal to our joy. With the sports, &c. l hunters in various degree; ts a living, the lawyer a fee; patient, the courtier a place, like us, they're flung out with disgrace. With the sports, &c. a plum, the soldier hunts fame; ner, the patriot a name; coquette, though she seems to refuse, f her airs, she her lover pursues. With the sports, &c. nd the busy hunt glory and wealth, g we ask, is the blessing of health; and with horns, through the woodlands to d abroad find contentment at home BRIGHT PHOEBUS. BRIGHT Phœbus has mounted the chariot of day, away; Through meadows and woods with speed now they bound, Whilst health, rosy health, is in exercise found Hark! away, is the word to the sound of the horn, Each hill and each valley is lovely to view, Hark! away, &c. At length puss is caught, and lies panting for breath, To the chase, to the chase, on the brow of the hill, Sweet echo repeats-to the chase! to the chase! Nor sweeter when ev'ning convenes to the bower, See the stag just before us! he starts at the cry! must he die. His innocent aspect, while standing at bay, All plead for compassion-your looks seem to say, Quick, release him to dart o'er the neighboring plain; Let him live-let him bound o'er the forest again. THE FOX HUNTERS' ROUND. WHEN Sol from the east had illumined the sphere, Tom Bramble scour'd forth, when, almost to his chin, All gay as the lark, the green woodlands we traced, The sports of the field, when concluded and o'er, AN ANGLER'S LIFE. AN angler's life has joys for me, When blooming spring has clad the plain, Each spray then sounds with jocund glee, For spring brings pleasure in her train. "T is then the angler's truest joy To wander by the lonely stream; Success repays his mild employ, And pleasure sheds her brightest beam. The glittering dace, the spangled trout, The angler envies no man's joys, THE BRIGHT ROSY MORNING. THE bright rosy morning, Peeps over the hills; The meadows and fields, While the merry, merry horn, Calls come, come away; The stag rous'd before us, And pants to the chorus The day's sport when over, Fresh charms for the night. THE TIMID HARE. WHEN morn 'twixt mountain and the sky The sportsman knows no grief or care; Across the lawn, Awakes the trembling timid hare. Who panting flies, like freed from pain, Across the lawn, Re-echoes blithe both far and near; We know no bounds While coursing of the timid hare. |