And so he paced to Woodford Wells, Where many a horseman met, And letting go the _reins_ of course, Prepared for _heavy wet_. And lo! within the crowded door, Stood Rounding, jovial elf; Here shall the Muse frame no excuse, But frame the man himself. A snow-white head, a merry eye, A cheek of jolly blush; A claret tint laid on by health, With master Reynard’s brush; A hearty frame, a courteous bow, The prince he learned it from; His age about threescore and ten, And there you have Old Tom. In merriest key I trow was he, So many guests to boast; So certain congregations meet, And elevate the host. “Now welcome lads,” quoth he, “and prads, You’re all in glorious luck: Old Robin has a run to-day, A noted forest buck. “Fair Mead’s the place, where Bob and Tom, In red already ride; ’Tis but a _step_, and on a horse, You soon may go _a-stride_.” So off they scampered, man and horse, As time and temper pressed-- But Huggins, hitching on a tree, _Branched_ off from all the rest. Howbeit he tumbled down in time To join with Tom and Bob, All in Fair Mead, which held that day Its own fair meed of mob. Idlers to wit--no Guardians some, Of Tattlers in a squeeze; Ramblers in heavy carts and vans, Spectators up in trees. Butchers on backs of butchers’ hacks, That _shambled_ to and fro! Bakers intent upon a buck, Neglectful of the _dough!_ Change Alley Bears to speculate, As usual for a fall; And green and scarlet runners, such As never climbed a wall! ’Twas strange to think what difference A single creature made; A single stag had caused a whole _Stag_nation in their trade. Now Huggins from his saddle rose, And in the stirrups stood; And lo! a little cart that came Hard by a little wood. In shape like half a hearse--though not For corpses in the least; For this contained the _deer alive_, And not the _dear deceased_! And now began a sudden stir, And then a sudden shout, The prison doors were opened wide, And Robin bounded out! His antlered head shone blue and red, Bedecked with ribbons fine; Like other bucks that come to ‘list The hawbucks in the line. One curious gaze of wild amaze, He turned and shortly took: Then gently ran adown the mead, And bounded o’er the brook. Now Huggins, standing far aloof, Had never seen the deer, Till all at once he saw the beast Come charging in his rear. Away he went, and many a score Of riders did the same, On horse and ass--like High and Low And Jack pursuing game! Good Lord! to see the riders now, Thrown off with sudden whirl, A score within the purling brook, Enjoyed their “early purl.”