01.01.2011, 12:35
THE OLD FOX-HUNTER
To some this rich and multifarious world
Is void without the chase : poor Reynard's scent
Is the prime smell beneath the firmament,
And all besides is into Limbo hurl'd ;
To-day will be the first meet of the hounds ;
The wind blows south, and, in the early dark,
The squire sits gazing o'er his dusky park.
While, in his ears, the horn already sounds ;
Yon furzy levels harbour all his hopes.
No other field of glory ranks with them ;
Fair Athens and divine Jerusalem
Are moving to the Dawn with Hunter's Copse,
And the Home-cover ; but the squire ignores
All fame, that mounts not at his kennel-doors.
To some this rich and multifarious world
Is void without the chase : poor Reynard's scent
Is the prime smell beneath the firmament,
And all besides is into Limbo hurl'd ;
To-day will be the first meet of the hounds ;
The wind blows south, and, in the early dark,
The squire sits gazing o'er his dusky park.
While, in his ears, the horn already sounds ;
Yon furzy levels harbour all his hopes.
No other field of glory ranks with them ;
Fair Athens and divine Jerusalem
Are moving to the Dawn with Hunter's Copse,
And the Home-cover ; but the squire ignores
All fame, that mounts not at his kennel-doors.