THE DEVIL AND TOM CONNOLLY. BEING NO. VII. OF THE KISHOGE PAPERS. "WHAT a capital day for the scent to lie, Of a very spruce hack, And looks with delight on a beautiful pack Of foxhounds as ever yet ran on a track. There were Howler and Jowler, and Towser and Yelper, And Boxer and Pincher, and Snarler and Skelper, And Tinker, And Winker, And Blinker, And Clinker, And Griper and Molly, And Snuffler and Dolly: But to set down the list of the whole would be folly; Of that hack, Died very soon after the last of that pack Having kept up the chase by good humour and mirth, gone for aye, Rest to his bones! he has !" The cover is reached-and a better array Of sportsmen it never has seen than to-day. 'Tis as gallant a field As all Ireland could yield: The horsemen to all kinds of devilment steel'd- Both in bottom and speed; And if put to the pound wall of Ballinasloe, There are plenty amongst them would never look-no! But the best-mounted man at that gay cover side In Tom Connolly's hall, Who keeps " open house" for the great and the small; Beside that the hounds through the brushwood are dodging, With a caution profound; Some running and poking their noses all round. Are at length on his track; Sly old Reynard leaps out Hold fast. Don't ride over the dogs. What a scramble! Away go the hounds over brushwood and bramble Away go the horsemen-away goes the fox Away go they all o'er brooks, fences, and rocks. They are stretching amain: Each sinew and nerve do the gallant steeds strain, And the horseman who rides at the tail of the pack Away! away! On his restless bed His wearied limbs let the sluggard spread, Give me to taste of the freshening draught While the blood leaps wild in each thrilling vein. To the manly danger that waits the chase? Thirteen out of fifty their mettle attest— There's a very nice view from the road for the rest. goes, Of furze on each bank-by old Nim, that's a pozer : No go, Doctor, you're thrown, And have fractured your dexter clavicular bone. sir. Who could think that he ever had got wig or gown on him— Cleared gallantly! but sure 'tis plain common sense, Bar practice should fit a man well for a fence. Five more show they're good ones in bottom and speed; But that tall, strange, black gentleman still keeps the lead. your Ha! Reynard, you're done for, my boy-at Come face 'em, old fellow, and die like a trush. back That squeeze in the gullet has finished your breath, The very black horseman dismounts from his steed, With the air of a wag, Says, "this is cool work, my old fellow, to-day," Neither rider nor steed Seem one whit the worse of their very great speed; Who this moment arrive, Their horses all foaming, themselves all bemired, As they think, "who the deuce can be this chap in black, The group has come up with the stranger the while, He had heard from a lad, As a toast through all Ireland for humour and fun. "'Gad, sir," says the squire, Your politeness or daring I'm puzzled to say; * Pron. boreen-a narrow by-road. † Pron. mothereen rooh—a fox. Lit. a little red dog. All I've met with must yield To your feats in the field. I trust I at least can induce you to dine, "Done, Tom!-I beg pardon I make so d―d free, But your name by the way?"-" Mine! oh, pray call me Nick." "Very good-there's a spice of the devil about it." "A spice of the devil! ay, faith, who can doubt it? I'm dressed by the way in his livery sainted, But they say the old boy's not as black as he's painted. "You're no parson sure-come?" "Ah, no pumping on that, my friend Connolly-mum ! This clerical suit, faith, though sombre and sad, Is no bad thing at all with the women, my lad!" "Well done, Nick! On my life, I'll look after my wife If you come in her way."—" 'Gad," says Nick with a laugh, "To look after yourself would be better by half." "Look after myself!" says the squire; "Lord, why so? You've no partnership sure with your namesake below?" "No," says Nick with a squint, Thus with laughter and jest Ride along, while their humour is shared by the rest, Master Nick to install, As the prince of good fellows; and just at nightfall 'Tis a glorious thing when the wintry sun, With all the best things of the season" stored; Fowl too-not those barbarous things that they cram- Though, talking of ham, there's but one place they cure a Still if Estremadura ham cannot be had, A slice of Westphalia is not very bad: Some simple hors d'œuvre one would add to these- At times to this snug little plât of the Marshal, And can sympathize well in his luckless disaster, When Seidlitz laid hold of the chops for his master ;* On a cavalry general charging for chops. A few light things to follow, and then the dessert, Champagne, and thou draught, than Jove's nectar sublimer, To a dinner of this sort the hunting-folk sit, Wit begins to assert His claims to attention; and near to its close Ye gods, how the urchin commences to shine! In drinking, in laughing, in frolic, and jest, He seems but the sun who gives light to the rest; And after a while, when the squire begs a song of him, t He sings for them this, which some folk will think wrong of him :— A fig for Philosophy's rules, Our stay is too brief upon earth, To spare any time in the schools, Save those of Love, Music, and Mirth: Yes! their's is the exquisite lore We can learn in life's summer by heart, While the winter of gloomy fourscore 'Tis vain o'er dull volumes to pine: What a fool was the Chaldean seer Who studied the planets afar While the bright eye of woman is near— The lore of the planets who seeks, Is years in acquiring the art, While the language dear woman's eye speaks Then surely if life's but a day, 'Tis vain o'er dull volumes to pine. Let the stars be his book as they may, But the bright eye of woman be mine! General Seidlitz surprised Marshal Soubise, and actually had the dinner which was cooked for him, for his royal master, Frederick of Prussia, to partake of.—K. VOL. XXII.-No. 132. 2 z |