48 HISTORY OF BISHOP AUCKLAND. of a similar production. The first five verses are wanting, but there is sufficient of it to give some idea of John's style of composition : — At Bowden Rnsh he durst not stay For fear that he shoidd die, For Bogle Hole he made his way , As fast as he coidd hie. Tally, ho ! tally, ho ! the Rogue's as gay, As if he'd not. heard our voices to-day. He turned his course to the River Wear, Down WOlington Dene he straight did steer ; Hark ! Gamester and Madman, they make the woods ring, And the rest of the Pack, how jovial they sing. Press forward, forward, gallant hounds. Despite of all his art ; If he remains out of the ground, We soon will cleave his heart. What a noble field, all staunch and good. All eager to spill poor Reynard's blood. The sportsmen of the chase were those — Bowser, Chaytor, Harland, and two Shaftos ; Wooler, Dobson, Chapman, and our young Squire, And Lowson who nobly bore up the rear ; With Joplin, too, as I've told you. Although a hunter gay. For by a bog he lost the view, And home he took straight way. His clothes all o'er bedaub'd with mud ; His mare, also, from tail to lug. But Bowser and his noble crew Like Eagles to the Wear they flew, When Richard, our noble young squire. Bode up and thus spoke to his sire — " He's gone straight through, by the jovial sound Of the hounds now in full cry ; Smack, smack your whips, and forward bound. Or he'll earth, and us defy." The Wear they crost, no danger dread. Up Tom Scorer's farm they went full speed. Direct for Newfield Crag he went, To foO his foes was his intent. In spite of all the hounds could do, He e^h'd and bid them all adieu. Ended now the grateful chase. Sportsmen to your homes return ; Envy not — no man's place, Nor for higher glories bum. Sportsmen, this is noble glory, Which your servant sets before ye ; Hark ! forward, forward, hark away, Be this your song every hunting day. Be it, too, the sportsman's merit. Daily Reynard's brush to inherit. Friends with envious eyes shall greet you, When your jovial sport is done — Friends with ardour flock to meet you. And admire the trophies won : Hedley, this is noble glory. This with joy I set before thee. Digitized by Google
