Imágenes de páginas

From Howell Wood come, they to Stapleton go,
What confusion I see in the valley below ;
My friends in black collars nearly beat out of sight,
And Badsworth's old heroes in sorrowful plight.

With my, &c.
"Tis hard to describe all the frolic and fun,
Which, of course, must ensue in this capital run ;
But I quote the old proverb, howe'er trite and lame,
That the looker-on sces most by half of the game.

With my, &c.
Then, first in the burst, see dashing away,
Taking all on his stroke, on Ralpho the grey,
With persuaders in flank, comes Darlington's Peer,
With his chin sticking out, and his cap on one ear.

With my, &c.

Never heeding a tumble, a scratch, or a fall,
Lying close in his quarter, see Scott of Woodhall ;
And mind how he cheers them with “ Hark to the cry!"
Whilst on him the Peer keeps a pretty sharp eye.

With my, &c.
And next him, on Morgan, all rattle and talk,
Cramming over the fences comes wild Martin Hawke ;
But his neck he must break surely sooner or late,
As he'd rather ride over than open a gate.

With my, &c.
Then there's dashing Frank Boynton, who rides thorough-breds,
Their carcases nearly as small as their heads;
But he rides so d-d hard, that it makes my heart ache,
From fear his long legs should be left on a stake.

With my, &c.
Behold Ilarry Mellish, as wild as the wind,
On Lancaster mounted, leaving numbers behind ;
But lately return’d from democrat France,
Where, forgetting to bet, he's been learning to dance.

With my, &c.
That eagle-eyed sportsman, Charles Branding, behold,
Lying in a snug place, which needs scarcely be told ;
But from riding so hard, my friend Charley, forbear,
From fear you should tire your thirty pound mare!

With my, &c.
And close at his heels, see Bob Lascelles advance,
Dress’d as gay for the field as if leading the dance,
Resolved to ride hard, nor be counted the last,
Pretty sure of the speed of his fav’rite Outcast.

With my, &c.
Next, mounted on Pancake, see yonder comes Len,
A sportsman I'm sure well deserving my pen ;
His looks in high glee, and enjoying the fun,
Tho' truly I fear that his cake's over done.

With my, &c.

On Methodist perch’d, in a very good station,
Frank Barlow behold, that firm prop of the nation ;
But nothing could greater offend the good soul,
Than to Coventry sent from the chase and the bowl.

W’ith my, &c.
Then those two little fellows, as light as a feather,
Charles Parker and Clowes, come racing together :
And, riding behind them, see Oliver Dick,
With Slap-dash half blown, looking sharp for a nick.

With my, &c.
On Ebony mounted behold my Lord Barnard,
To live near the pack now obliged is to strain hard ;
But mounting friend Barny on something that's quick,
I warrant, my lads, he would shew you a trick.

With my, &c. Then Bland and Tom Gascoigne I spy in the van, Riding hard as two devils, at catch as catch can, But racing along to try which can get first, Alreadly I see both their horses are burst.

W'ith my, &c. Then smack at a yawner falls my friend Billy Clough ; He gets up, stares around him, faith! silly enough ; While Pilkington near him, cries, “ Pr’ythee get bled :" “Oh no, never mind, Sir, I fell on my head.

With my, &c. But where's that hard rider, my friend Colonel Bell? At the first setting off from the covert he fell. But I see the old crop, thus the whole chase will carry, In respectable style, the good temper’d Harry.

With my, &c. With

very small feet sticking fast in the mud, Frank IIawksworth I see on his neat bit of blood; But pull up, my friend, say you've lost a fore shoe, Else bleeding, I fear, must be shortly for you.



To keep their nags fresh for the end of the day,
Sir Edward and Lascelles just canter away ;
Not enjoying the pace our Raby hounds go,
But preferring the maxim of certain and slov.

With my, &c.
At the top of his speed, sadly beat and forlorn,
Behold Captain Horton is steering for Baln ;
For accustom’d at sea both to shift and to tack,
lle hopes by maneurring to gain the fleet pack.

With iny, &c.
The two Lecs, Harvey Hawke, Frank Soth’ron, and all,
Are skirting away for Stapleton Ilall ;
Whilst far in the rear behold Overley Cooke,
Endeav’ring to scramble o'er Ample's wide brook.


With my,

Far aloof to the right, and op'ning a gate,
There's a sportsman by system who never rides straight ;
But why, my good Godfrey, thus far will you roam,
When a pack of fine beagles hunt close to your


With my, &c.
Safe o'er the brook--but where's Captain Dancer?
Oh! he's stopping to catch Sir Rowland Winn's prancer;
But what is the use of that, my friend Winn?
If on foot you attempt it, you'll sure tumble in.

W’ith my, &c.
On his chesnut nag mounted, and heaving in flank,
At a very great distance behold Bacon Frank,
So true's the old maxiin, we even now find,
That Justice will always come limping behind.

With my, &c.
See Starkey and Hopwood, so full of their jokes,
From Bramham Moor come, to be quizzing the folks ;
And when they return the whole chase they'll explain-
Tho' they saw little of it—to crony Fox Lane.

With my, &c.
Lost, spavin'd, and galld, but shewing some blood-
For from Coxcomb's poor shoulders it streams in a flood
Behold Mr. Hodson, how he fumes and he frets,
While his black lies entangled in cursed sheep nets.

With my, &c.
If his name I pass'd over I fear he would cavil-
I just wish to say that I saw Mr. Saville:
And with very long coat on (a friend to his tailor),
With some more Wakefield heroes, behold Mr. Kailor.

With my, &c.
A large posse see in the valley below,
Who serve very well just to make up a show;
But broad as the brook is, it made many stop,
It's not ev'ry man's good luck to get to the top.

With my, &c.
Now all having pass'd, I'll to Ferrybridge go,
Each event of the day at the Club Í shall know;
W'here bright bumpers of claret enliven the night,
And chase far away hated envy and spite.

With my, &c.
Then forgive me, my friends, if you think me severe;
"Tis but meant as a joke, not intended to sneer;
Come, I'll give you a toast, in a bumper of wine,
“ Here's success to this Club, and to sport so divine !"

And the hounds of cld Raby for me. I arrived at home on the 10th Hussey Vivian ; but he was deef April, and left it again on the prived of the pleasure of receiving 15th for the New Forest. I was a large party of his friends at this to have taken up my old quarters time, by being obliged to attend His goder the hospitable roof of Sir Majesty in London. I had received


many kind invitations from Mr. the man who will say to a certainty Nicoll to visit him in the winter; there is a life to come? He is not but knowing that his table would be to be found! but it must be so. filled at this particular period—the God must justify his ways to man. grand finish to the hunting season However, as we live among scenes --I intended joining the party at of the deepest distress, I am all the inn at Lyndhurst ; but his for making the best of present kindness over-ruled me, and I spent time; for, as the Poet so beauti. one of the pleasantest weeks of my fully sings-life under his roof. Here, how.

" In such a world, so thorny, and where ever, I must pause. Numerous would have been the jokes, count- Finds Happiness unblighted, or, if found, less the anecdotes for John Warde

Without some prickly sorrow at its side.

It seems the part of Wisdom, and no sin was with us--that I might have Against the law of Love, to measure lots gleaned for these pages in those w'ith less distinguished than ourselves,

that thus gay-spent festive nights;" but

We may with patience bear our mod'rate all must now be silent. The hand

ills, of Death has snatched away one

And sympathize with others, suffering.

more." who presided at the feast, and the house of feasting has been a house Inpatient, however, as mankind of mourning. In a few months are apt to be under calamitiesafterwards, the wife of our kind which, after all, are but the condihost and the mother of his nine tion of their existenceyet conchildren died in giving birth to a trasts give variety to life. Did tenth, and Mr. Nicoll lost what we never taste what is bitter, we nothing can replace.

should know nothing of the sweets. “Oh! that the Omnipotent," Where, then, can there be a greater says an Englishman, on such an contrast than between the large occasion as this, “ had formed me rich fields of Leicestershire, and for a tree, an herb, a blade of the sterile, heath-clad surface of a grass, or a stone !

Oh! that I had Hampshire forest ? Notwithstandbeen an oak, a beech, a palm, or ing this, there is something in a cypress of the forest, or any thing forest which calls to mind pastoral incapable of pleasure or of pain !" and hunting.ages long since gone But there is a nobler sentiment by, but of course congenial to the than this from the pen of the im- feelings of a sportsman; and as, mortal Cicero: “ Were the Gods,” according to the doctrine of Arisa says he, “to offer to repose us totle, the love of the beautiful is once more in the cradle of our in- implanted in us by Nature, every fancy, should we accept or re- man-sportsman or no sportsman

the proffered boon?" -must feel instinctive pleasure in Thousands would hesitate before such a scene as Monday the sixthey decided upon the choice for teenth of April presented to us at such afflictions as these render life the meeting of Mr. Nicoll's hounds. nearly worthless. But, why do The morning was most propitious; they happen? Aye, that is a ques. Nature appeared in very gay attion which philosophers have asked, tire; and, exclusive of ladies, upbut which philosophy could never wards of three hundred horsemen,

To one question, howe from all parts of England, formed ever, they do reply. Where is the motley group. Amongst these,



the following conspicuous charac- man told us last night, that, to ters composed Mr. Nicoll's party :- make a huntsman perfect, his lips the great John Warde; the no less should be sewed Together, I never celebrated John, coinmonly called saw hounds lifted better ihan these Jack Wormwold ; Mr. Spurrier; have been this day." To say hic Mr. Foljambe, master of the Lin- lifted them of the ground, would be colushire fox-hounds; Sir Harry too figurative an expression, even Goodricke, and SirBellinghamGra- for my style; but he certainly did ham. Mr. John Moore, as usual, it to a charm, and his scream was was also in the neighbourhood (at thrilling and good. However, we Mr. Compton's); a considerable might as well say Horace was a stuparty of sporting men at the Inn pid fellow, and Demosthenes no at Lyndhurst; and Billy Butler, spokesman, as to say Mr. Nicoll is being his forty-sccond appearance. not a huntsman; for hc is one: but The Leicestershire Dons did not what cannot a master-mind like bis briug their own horses, but were accomplish-particularly when divery respectably mounted by the rected principally to one point? well-known Mr. Tilbury, who sent In the absence of sport, there is eight hunters to Lyndhurst for always something to amuse in the their use.

hunting field; but here, as in most To give an account of sport with other places, idleness is too often hounds on this occasion will not do the parent, if not of vice, of misnow, as, at any rate, it would be at chief. My readers will recollect, Icast a

year old; but on the first that, in my last account of a trip day we were saved from one of to the Forest, I related a few anecthe cvils attending April fox-hunt. dotes of a Mr. Wise, formerly a ing, by the keen eye and activity of coachman on the Southampton Mir, Fuljambe, who jumped off bis rou, but now living in retirement horse just in time to save a vixen on his carvings—with a hunter or fox, which gave suck, from falling two in his stable—and by his a prey to the pack. After the appearance, in the full enjoyhounds were taken away by Mr. ment of what all-bounteous Nature Nicoll, she was put down, and, has provided for those who can although apparently injured by a afford to pay for it. It was gripe on her back, she trotted away he who_so much amusea Sir is if nothing had happened. Francis Burdett in my preselice,

April fos-hunting never can be with a dissertation on the new and good; but this was a most scent. old school for the driving artless week, eren in the New Forest, himself, as his appearance denotes, where hounds generally catch a belonging to that 'yclept the Old. scent by some means. To cut the There is, however, something so matter short, we had but one pretty original about Mr. Wise, somea run out of four days' meeting ; but thing so apparently artless and inwe saw a deal of good hunting, genuous in his conversation and picking it out by the inch-and we demeanour, that must crer tend to iritnessed great skill in our hunts- amuse; and lie did not escape the man. I remember saying to my- attention of Mr. John Wormwald. self, the second day we were out “Is there a public house near?" with a very perplexing scent- said Mr. Wormwald, as we were “ Well, considering our hunts, all assembled around the pack in VOL. XXII. N.S.-No. 128.


« AnteriorContinuar »