Still to find the prey they sought left no sign for hunter eager:
Followed steady, not yet caught, was the skulking, fox-like leaguer
Jack, the Regular.
Who are they that yonder creep by those bleak rocks in the distance,
Like the figures born in sleep, called by slumber to existence?—
Tories doubtless from below, from the Hoek, sent out for spying.
"No! the foremost is our foe—he so long before us flying!
Now he spies us! see him start! wave his kerchief like a banner!
Lay his left hand on his heart in a proud, insulting manner.
Well he knows that distant spot's past our ball, his low scorn flinging.