Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A SCENE [AFTER HUNTING] AT SWALLOWFIELD IN BERKSHIRE, by SNEYD DAVIES



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A SCENE [AFTER HUNTING] AT SWALLOWFIELD IN BERKSHIRE, by                    
First Line: There's pleasure, sure, in being clad in green
Last Line: When will tomorrow come?—
Subject(s): Hunting; Hunters


Dr. Thirlby There's pleasure, sure, in being clad in green,
Which none but huntsmen know. How did my limbs
Exult, to find themselves disrobed of black!
What is the scold of bedmakers to that
Harmonious pack! or what the solemn note
Of beadle Simpson to our huntsman shrill!
I felt unusual courage when the fox,
Wiliest of creatures, stared me in the face
(Through enterprise or fear, I cannot tell);
But sure the beast was hideous. Yet I stood
Undaunted, at the time that Whaley's self
Fled in dismay, and sought the neighbouring copse.
Had not my noblest champion, generous Dodd,
Spurred to my aid, that moment were my last.
Whaley You wrong me, Doctor, by the manes great
Of my all-trading sire: I ne'er was deemed
A coward; no, not when the gander dire,
Furious with poked-out neck and flapping wings,
Assailed me sore perplexed; but soon the gaggling
Monster a victim fell to stone or stick.
Then call it caution; for believe me, sirs,
I took the grinning monster for a wolf.

Mr. Dodd gives Whaley a slap on the face, and says,

Thou art the vilest coward that e'er lived;
I saw thee as thou fled'st, and if my sense
Divined aright, methought I smelt thee too.
In vain the standing corn opposed my speed,
In vain the farmer swore; nor hedge nor oaths
Deterred me; hedge I broke, and oaths returned
With recompense, and came in need extreme
To save my friend, waging unequal war.
But thy o'er-wearied spirits ask recruit.
A cordial for the Doctor!—As for him,
I'll make example dire, and to be rued
By cowards yet unborn; that all may learn
Boldness and enterprise, and fear to fear.
Here, take him hence!
Whaley Ah me! how happy once!
Exit
Dodd O for invention to chastise the crime!
Through all my house, through kitchen, pantry, hall,
To grooms, and cook, and butler, be it known
That 'tis my pleasure Whaley fast this day;
And whoso'er clandestine shall appease
His longing maw, himself shall fast I swear.
Dr. Thirlby Consider, sir, lest indignation, just
In principle, transport you to pronounce
A sentence too severe, and o'er-proportioned
To the transgression (foul, I must confess);
But must not mercy whisper to the thought
A mulct less rigid?
Dodd Doctor, this age,
This dastard and fox-fearing age, demands
Severity and rigour.
Farrel, be thou the bearer of my will!

Whaley in his apartments. To him Farrel.

Farrel Excuse me, sir, if duty bids me speak
What kindness would conceal. Thus said my master:
'Through all my house, through kitchen, pantry, hall,
To grooms, and cook, and butler, be it known
That 'tis my pleasure Whaley fast this day;
And whoso'er clandestine shall appease
His longing maw, himself shall fast I swear.'
Whaley O Mr. Farrel,
Supreme of valets, gently hast thou told
Thy message, which would else in telling wound,
And in performing end me. Some few hours
Pass, and you'll see my hunger-quaking cheeks,
And my loose skin, descending and unnerved,
Apron my nether parts. But I submit,
And will prepare, if possible, to fast. Exit Farrel.
Whaley solus Nimrod, I hate thee, premier hunter vile,
Beast of a man! and of all other beasts,
The fox is my aversion. Brute accursed,
Lamb-eating, narrow-snouted, stinking villain!
Author of all my sorrows! but for him
I yet had flourished, unimpeached of fear.
Yet why the fox accused? how could he help
My trembling nature's fault, not his? or how
Contrive not to be taken for a wolf?
'Tis I, I only am to blame. O cowardice!
What ills dost thou create? But chief of thee,
Of thee I most complain, O want of food!
I've often heard, indeed, of that word fast,
But never yet the meaning could devise.
Ah! by severe experience now I feel
To fast is to abstain from meat and drink.
Happy the meagre, cloistered man resigned!
He at set periods, by spare diet taught,
Can his commanded appetites renounce,
And pine with voluntary want. But I,
Pampered, and sleek, and jovial, ill can brook
Th' abstemious trial. Flesh and blood can't bear it.
I will not fast. How not? ah! there's the question,
While surly grooms each avenue secure.
For twice twelve livelong hours must I then rue
Hunger and thirst, and my delighted spirits,
So oft in nectar bathed, exhausted flag!
Must I then lose thee, burgundy; nor taste
Delicious morsels, carp, or hare, or quail?
Unfortunate! Ev'n now perhaps the guests
At the thronged board make merry with my woes.
One asks with sneering purport, 'Where is Whaley?'
'Dining with good Duke Humphrey,' cries another.
Pratt smiles malignantly, and Davies grins
At my undoing; nay, perchance he rhymes
(Vile bard!), and on my ruin builds his song.
No more—I'll to the window. Beauteous scene
Of water and of hills, of lawns and trees,
What respite can ye give to lean distress?
And you, plump deer, that scud along the lawn,
Serve but to raise my venison appetite!
Am I deceived, or through the waving boughs
An alehouse sign peeps forth?—I'm not deceived,
For through the boughs an alehouse sign peeps forth;
Would I were there!—but ah! what gulf's between!
When will tomorrow come?—





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