No comfort he could find.
Whilst thus the "Hunting Chorus" sped
To stay five bars behind.
For tho' by dint of spur he got
A leap in spite of fate—
Howbeit there was no toll at all,
They could not clear the gate.
And, like Fitzjames, he cursed the hunt,
And sorely cursed the day,
And mus'd a new Gray's elegy