The Boar of the Year
In the shade of the trees by the lunch-tent the old Haileyburian sat,—
A full fourteen-stone in the saddle, and the best of hard riders at that,—
And he shouted aloud as we passed him: "I'll wait till the claret-cup cools.
There's a sounder broke loose in the open! Ride, boys, for the love of your Schools!"
Bull huge in the mists of the morn at the head of his sounder he stood—
Our quarry—and watched us awhile, and we thirsted aloud for his blood;
Then over the brawn of his shoulder looked back as we galloped more near—
Then fled for the far-away cover; and we followed the Boar of the Year!
There was Cheltenham perched on an Arab—so rich are these thrice-born R.E.'s;
And Rugby—his mount was a Waler; and a couple of O.U.S.C.'s;
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