Page:Pocock's Everlasting Songster.djvu/52

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The huntfmen are mounted, the fleed feels the fpur,

And quickly they fcour it along ; Rapid after the fox runs each mufical cur,

Follow, follow, my boys, is the fong.

O'er mountains and valleys we fkim it away,

Now Reynard's almofl out of fight ; But fooner than loofe him we'll fpend {fce whole day,

In hunting, for that's our delight. -

By eager purfuing we'll have him at laft, He's too tired, poor rogue, down he lies ;

Now ftarts up afrem, and young fnap has him faft, He trembles, kicks, ftruggles, and dies.

��"OW fweet in the woodland, with fleet hound

and horn,

To waken fhrill echo, and tafte thefrefh morn,. But hard is the chace my fond heart muft puiiue, For Daphne, fair Daphne, is loft to my view. Aflift me chafte Dian, the Nymph to regain, More wild than the roebuck and wing'd with difdain, In pity o'ertake her, who wounds as me flies, Tho' Daphne's purfu'd, 'tis Myrtillo who dies.

��'HEN Bibo thought fit from this world to re treat,

As full of champaign as an egg's full of meat, He wak'd in the boat, and to Charon he faid, He would be row'd bac*s for lie was not vet dead. " Trim the boat and fit quiet!" flern Charon reply r d, " You may have forgot, you was drunk when you died."

ROAST

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