A Hunting Song

Arouze, and break the bands of sleep— Blush! Idler, blush! such hours to keep: Somnus! what joys can'st thou bestow, Equal to those which hunters know; Whether the mountains they attain, Or swiftly dart across the plain?

Hark—through the woods, How the music resounds! The horn's re-echoed More sweet by the hounds; Deep throated and clear, Our spirits they cheer; They give us such glee, No danger we see, But follow with pleasure, 'Tis joy beyond measure, To be in at the death.

Arouze, &c.