Like a first-rate English fox-hunter,
One of the present time.
His room at home is hung around with emblems of his pride,
With sporting prints and fox’s heads, which in good runs have died:
Th’ Oxonians on hacks, in “teams,” do gladly gather here
To view his hounds and horses, and to taste the hearty cheer,
Of this first rate, &c.
And when at break of early day he sallies to “the meet,”
How well appointed! ain’t it, boys? how sportsmanlike! how neat!
In Heythrop’s grassy avenue, a goodly sight, I ween,