And there as he lay and looked, the cry Of the hounds at head came rousing by; He bent his bones in the blackthorn dim. But the cry of the hounds was not for him, Over the fence with a crash they went, Belly to grass, with a burning scent, Then came Dansey, yelling to Bob, "They've changed, O damn it, now here's a job." And Bob yelled back, "Well, we cannot turn 'em, It's Jumper and Antic, Tom; we'll learn 'em. We must just go on, and I hope we kill." They followed hounds down the Mourne End Hill. The fox lay still in the rabbit-meuse, On the dry brown dust of the plumes of yews. In the bottom below a brook went by, Blue, in a patch, like a streak of sky. There, one by one, with a clink of stone, Came a red or dark coat on a horse half blown. And man to man with a gasp for breath Said, "Lord, what a run. I'm fagged to death." [Illustration: And man to man with a gasp for breath Said, "Lord, what a run. I'm fagged to death."] After an hour, no riders came, The day drew by like an ending game; A robin sang from a pufft red breast, The fox lay quiet and took his rest. A wren on a tree-stump carolled clear, Then the starlings wheeled in a sudden sheer, The rooks came home to the twiggy hive In the elm-tree tops which the winds do drive. Then the noise of the rooks fell slowly still, And the lights came out in the Clench Brook Mill Then a pheasant cocked, then an owl began With the cry that curdles the blood of man. The stars grew bright as the yews grew black, The fox rose stiffly and stretched his back. He flaired the air, then he padded out To the valley below him dark as doubt, Winter-thin with the young green crops, For Old Cold Crendon and Hilcote Copse. HOME [Illustration: Reynard the fox] As he crossed the meadows at Naunton Larking, The dogs in the town all started barking, For with feet all bloody and flanks all foam, The hounds and the hunt were limping home: Limping home in the dark, dead-beaten, The hounds all rank from a fox they'd eaten, Dansey saying to Robin Dawe, "The fastest and longest I ever saw." And Robin answered, "O Tom, 'twas good, I thought they'd changed in the Mourne End Wood, But now I feel that they did not change. We've had a run that was great and strange; And to kill in the end, at dusk, on grass. We'll turn to the Cock and take a glass, For the hounds, poor souls, are past their forces. And a gallon of ale for our poor horses, And some bits of bread for the hounds, poor things, After all they've done (for they've done like kings), Would keep them going till we get in. We had it alone from Nun's Wood Whin." Then Tom replied, "If they changed or not, There've been few runs longer and none more hot, We shall talk of to-day until we die."