BALLAD. (Give round the word dismount, dismount)

Give round the word dismount, dismount, While echoed by the sprightly horn, The toils and pleasures we recount Of this sweet health inspiring morn.

'Twas glorious sport, none e'er did lag, Nor drew amiss, nor made a stand, But all as firmly kept their pace, As had Acteon been the stag, And we had hunted by command Of the goddess of the chase.

The hounds were out and snuffed the air, And scarce had reach'd th' appointed spot, But pleas'd they heard a layer, a layer, And presently drew on the slot.

Twas glorious sport, &c.

And now o'er yonder plain he fleets, The deep-mouth'd hounds begin to bawl; And echo note for note repeats, While sprightly horns resound a call.

Twas glorious sport, &c.

And now the stag has lost his pace, And while war-hauneh the huntsman cries, His bosom swells, tears wet his face, He pants, he struggles, and he dies.

'Twas glorious sport, &c,