DO you hear, brother fportfman, the found ^of the Horn,
And yet the fxveet pleafure decline ; For fliame, roufe your icnfes, and ere it is morn, With me the fvveet melody join.
Thro* the wood and the valley the traitor we rally,
Nor quit him till panting he lies ; While hounds in full cry, thro' hedges fliall fly.
And chace the fwift tare till he dies.
Then faddle your fteed, to the meadows and fields,
Both' willing and joyous repair ; No paftime in life greater happinefs yields,
Then chafing the fox or the hare.
For fuch comforts, my friend, on the fportfman
attend,
' No pleafure like hunting is found ; For when it is o'er as brifk as before, Next morning we fpurn up the ground.
��HARK ! the huntfman's begun to found the (hrili horn,
Come quickly unkennel the hounds ; 'Tis a beautiful, glittering, golden-eyed morn, We'll chace the fox over the grounds.
See yonder fits Reynard, fo crafty and fly,
Come faddle your courfers apace ; The hounds have a fcent, and are all in full cry,
They Ions to be eivine him chace.
The
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