THE CHARMS of MELODY, SONG 112

Ye sportsmen draw near, and ye sportswomen too, Who delight in the joys of die field; Mankind, tho' they blame, are all eager as you, And no one the contest will yield: His lordship, his worship, his honour, his grace, A hunting continua'ly go; All ranks and degrees are engag'd in the chace, With hark forward! huzza! tally-ho!

The lawyer will rise with the first of the morn, To hunt for a mortgage or deed; The husband gets up, to the sound of the horn, And rides to the commons full speed; The patriot is thrown in pursuit of his game, The poet, too, often lies low, Who, mounted on Pegasus, flies after fame, With hark forward! huzza! tally-ho!

While fearless o'er hills and o'er woodlands we sweep, Though prudes on our pastime may srown; How oft do they decency's bounds overleap, And the fences of virtue break down? Thus public, or private, for pension, for place, For amusement, for passion, for show; All ranks and degrees are engag'd in the chace, With hark forward! huzza! tally-ho!