Till shows a tufted isle its welcome screen;
Veering to this, they gain a prospect near
Of the red hosts that throng the opposing green;—
Hundreds on hundreds did the fires surround,
Ran on the shores or verdant banks embrowned.
XIX.
Along the strand their speed the racers try,
And with their flying feet scarce touch the ground;
From goal to goal the nimble hunters fly,
Crowds shout above them, and the woods resound;