Page:Pocock's Everlasting Songster.djvu/44

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The wife around her hufband throws

Her arms to make him ftay, My dear, it rains, it hails, it blows,

You cannot hunt to-day.

But a hunting we- will go, &c.

The uncavern'd fox like lightning flies,

His cunning's all awake, To gain the race he eager tries,

His forfeit life's at ftake.

When a hunting we will go, &c.

Arouf 'd, e'en echo huntrefs turns,

.And madly fhouts for joy, The iportfman's breaft enraptur'd burns,

The chace can never cloy.

Then a hunting we will go, &c.

Defpairing mark he freks the tide,

His art mud now prevail, Hark ! fhouts the mifcreant's death betide,

His fpeed, his cunning fail.

When a hunting we will go, &c.

For lo ! his ftrength to faintnefs worn,

The hounds atteft his fight ; Then hungry homewards we return

To feaft away the night.

Then a di inking we will go, &c.

��THE ORIGIN OF ENGLISH LIBERTY.

,NCE the Gods of the Greeks at ambrofial feaft

Large bowls of rich nectar were quaffing ; Merry Moaws among them was fat as a gueft ; Homer fays che celeftials lov'd laughing.

On

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