In shape like half a hearse,--tho' not For corpses in the least; For this contained the _deer alive_, And not the _dear deceased_!

Robin bounds out, and the hunt starts: Huggins--

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction — Part 14

Away he went, and many a score Of riders did the same, On horse and ass--like high and low And Jack pursuing game.

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction — Part 14

Good lord! to see the riders now, Thrown off with sudden whirl, A score within the purling brook, Enjoy'd their "early purl."

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction — Part 14

A score were sprawling on the grass, And beavers fell in show'rs; There was another _Floorer_ there, Beside the Queen of Flowers!

Some lost their stirrups, some their whips, Some had no caps to show; But few, like Charles at Charing Cross, Rode on in _Statue_ quo.

"O, dear! O, dear!" now might you hear, "I've surely broke a bone;" "My head is sore,"--with many more Such speeches from the _thrown_.

Away they went then dog and deer, And hunters all away.-- The maddest horses never knew _Mad staggers_ such as they!

Some gave a shout, some roll'd about, And antick'd as they rode, And butchers whistled on their curs, And milkmen _tally-ho'd_!

About two score there were, not more, That gallopped in the race; The rest, alas! lay on the grass, As once in Chevy Chase!

And by their side see Huggins ride, As fast as he could speed; For, like Mazeppa, he was quite At mercy of his steed.

No means he had, by timely check, The gallop to remit, For firm and last, between his teeth, The biter held the bitt.

Trees raced along, all Essex fled Beneath him as he sate,-- He never saw a county go At such a county-rate!

"Hold hard! hold hard! you'll lame the dogs:" Quoth Huggins, "so I do,-- I've got the saddle well in hand, And hold as hard as you!"

And now he bounded up and down, Now like a jelly shook: Till bump'd and gall'd--yet not where Gall, For bumps did ever look!

And rowing with his legs the while, As tars are apt to ride; With every kick he gave a prick, Deep in the horse's side!

But soon the horse was well avenged, For cruel smart of spurs, For, riding through a moor, he pitched His master in a furze!

Where sharper set than hunger is He squatted all forlorn; And like a bird was singing out While sitting on a thorn!

Right glad was he, as well as might be. Such cushion to resign: "Possession is nine points," but his Seemed more than ninety nine.