Our scarlet fiddlers' noted race,
And lord-like pack of hounds?[180]
XXXIV.
"What, tho' our huntsman's clothed well,
In coat of grass-green plush,[181]
Whene'er I see our crier's bell,
I vow it makes me blush.
XXXV.
"Whene'er we're sitting in this hall,
The sound on't makes me sick,