UNCLE NED'S TALE.
197
Our hearts with, fierce impatience throbbed, we cursed the very hill
That hid the sight: the evening fell, and we were idle still.
The horses, too, were almost wild, and told with angry snort
And blazing eye their fierce desire to join the savage sport.
"When lower still the sun had sunk, and with it all our hope,
A horseman, soiled with smoke and sweat, came dashing down the slope.
He bore the wished-for orders. 'At last!' our Colonel cried;
And as he read the brief despatch his glance was filled with pride.
Then he who bore the orders, in a low, emphatic tone,
The stern, expressive sentence spoke,—’He said it must he done!’
'It shall be done!' our Colonel cried. 'Men, look to strap and girth,
