The Fox.
O! Reynard, how I watch'd thy pace,
As you went o'er the dale
O! how I watch'd at rear the chase
With hound and horse at trail.
Did surely gain and step by step
When open country lay,
But how thy cunning then had leapt
A mile ahead that day.
And when the even came at last,
Its cloak the hunt had stayed,
And homeward when the hunters past,
For thy escape I prayed.
And when they told me you had won,
What was I then to do,
To give it to the sinking sun,
Or else the speed to you.
To win such race I know full well
You oft have been the prey,
Is it the slip you play so well
That empty sends this day.
But still, thou didst some sport provide,
And gave a merry pace,
And also game at seek and hide,
As well as a good chase.
And what else did thy chase portend,
An axiom now well known,
It's not thy speed that to thee sends,
But cunning to thy home.
G. H. Rekab.
