BALLAD. (To Bachelor's Hall we good fellows invite)

To Bachelor's Hall we good fellows invite, To partake of the chase that makes up our delight; We have spirits like fire, and of health such a stock, That our pulse strikes the seconds as true as a clock.

Did you see us, you'd swear, as we mount with a grace, That Diana had dubb'd some new gods of the chase. Hark away, hark away, all nature looks gay, And Aurora with smiles ushers in the bright day.

Dick Thickset came mounted upon a fine black, A better fleet gelding ne'er hunter did back; Tom Trig rode a bay, full of mettle and bone, And gayly Bob Buxom rode proud on a roan;

But the horse of all horses that rivall'd the day Was the squire's Neck-or-Nothing, and that was a grey Hark away, &c.

Then for hounds, there was Nimble, so well that climbs rocks, And Cocknose, a good one at scenting a fox: Little Plunge, like a mole who will ferret and search, And beetle-brow'd Hawk's-eye, so dead at a lurch.

Young Sly-looks, who scents the strong breeze from the south, And musical Echo-well, with his deep mouth. Hark away, &c.

Our horses thus all of the very best blood, 'Tis not likely you'll easily find such a stud; And for hounds, our opinions with thousands we'd back, That all England throughout can't produce such a pack.

Thus, having described you dogs, horses, and erew, Away we set off, for the fox is in view. Hark away, &c.

Sly renard's brought home, while the horns sound a call, And now you're all welcome to Bachelor's Hall, The sav'ry sirloin grateful smoaks on the board, And Bacchus pours wine-from his favourite hoard.

Come on then, do honour to this jovial place, And enjoy the sweet pleasures that spring from the chase; Hark away, hark away, all nature looks gay, Let us drink to the joys of the next coming day.