You describe
The huntsman's pastime to the life.
Con. I love it!
To wood and glen, hamlet and town, it is
A laughing holiday! Not a hill-top
But's then alive! Footmen with horsemen vie,
All earth's astir, roused with the revelry
Of vigour, health, and joy! Cheer awakes cheer,
While Echo's mimic tongue, that never tires,
Keeps up the hearty din! Each face is then
Its neighbour's glass--where Gladness sees itself,
And at the bright reflection grows more glad!
Breaks into tenfold mirth!--laughs like a child!
Would make a gift of its heart, it is so free!
Would scarce accept a kingdom, 'tis so rich!
Shakes hands with all, and vows it never knew
That life was life before!
Wild. Nay, every way
You do fair justice, lady, to the chase;
But fancies change.
Con. Such fancy is not mine.
Wild. I would it were not mine, for your fair sake.
I have quite given o'er the chase.
Con. You say not so!
Wild. Forsworn, indeed, the sportsman's life, and grown,
As you may partly see, town-gentleman.
I care not now to mount a steed, unless
To amble 'long the street; no paces mind,
Except my own, to walk the drawing-room,
Or in the ball-room to come off with grace;
No leap for me, to match the light coupe;
No music like the violin and harp,
To which the huntsman's dog and horn I find
Are somewhat coarse and homely minstrelsy:
Then fields of ill-dressed rustics, you'll confess,
Are well exchanged for rooms of beaux and belles
In short, I've ta'en another thought of life -
Become another man!
Con.
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