Shipwreck'd sailor/The echoing horn

THE ECHOING HORN.

THE echoing horn calls the sportsmen abroad,
⁠to horse, my brave boys, and away;
The morning is up, and the cry of the hounds
⁠upbraids our too tedious delay.
What pleasure we find in pursuing the fox!
⁠o’er hill and o’er valley he flies :
Then follow, we’ll soon overtake him, huzza!
⁠the traitor is seiz'd on and dies

Triumphant returning at night with the spoil,
⁠like Bacchanals shouting and gay,
How sweet with our bottle and lass to refresh,
⁠and lose the fatigues of the day!
With sport, love, and wine, fickle fortune defy,
⁠dull wisdom all happiness sours ;
Since life is no more than a passage at best,
⁠let’s strew the way over with flow’rs.