SPOirr ON SPOKTINCI! 
 
 BY DOGGBEL DRYD06, 
 
 OF 
 
 The corn is cut, the manor full of game ; 
 
 The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats 
 In russet jacket ; lynx-like is his aim, 
 
 Full grows his bag, and wonder-/w^ his feats. 
 
 — Don Juan. 
 
 Let the gay ones and great 
 Make the most of their state, 
 
 While from pleasure to pleasure they run, 
 
 Why who cares a jot, 
 
 I envy them not 
 
 While I have my dog and my gun. 
 
 — Hawthorn, in “Love in a Village.” 
 
 COLCHESTER: 
 
 W. TOTHAM, BOOKSELLER, 24, HIGH STREET. 
 
SEPTEMBER; 
 
 OR, 
 
 SPORT ON SPORTING! 
 
 XT AIL, old September! though thou’rt to rest at morn 
 
 * ^ Of months the worst ; 
 
 Without a second, wights to fields go forth — 
 
 When comes thy First ! 
 
 Each sportsman thy return — (so joojo-’lar’s gunning) 
 
 To hail ne’er lacks : 
 
 Long he has long’d upon the birds — like statesmen — 
 
 To make a-tacks ! 
 
 The power of old dull Somnus he shakes off* 
 
 Before ’tis five ; 
 
 And keeps till night — by killing all he can — 
 
 The ‘‘game alive!” 
 
 A dangerous character, ’tis plain, he is. 
 
 Your man of sports ; 
 
 All day, his darling pleasure’s — gossip-like — 
 
 To raise reports ! 
 
From the old rule of shooting in September 
 He never swerves ; 
 
 Then, no confectioner has such sweets for him 
 As the preserves / 
 
 But ah ! how oft his anger is excited 
 At early morn : 
 
 He finds some fields unbushed! — ’tis in his flesh 
 A very thorn ! 
 
 In field with dog and gun, iflbirds he finds. 
 
 He’s no lamenter ; 
 
 Yet, still, though their attraction’s much, his dog 
 Appears the scenter ! 
 
 Within Saint Stephen’s the “Ayes” ’tis should p romote 
 What “ dogs ” propose ; 
 
 But now, alas ! some there seem — pointer-like— 
 
 “ Led by the Nose ! ” 
 
 — Birds! your’s upon the First must be indeed 
 A hapless lot ; 
 
 Almost each fire — if there’s no flash in pan — 
 You “ go to pot!” 
 
 But, ah ! the spoi'tsman’s, a pleasure unalloy’d 
 Not even his is : 
 
 Guns, often — like our daughters — won’t “go off ” — 
 Plague take such misses ! 
 
 And pointers ! oh, they ’re disappointers, when 
 The game’s not smelt ; 
 
 But then they ’re lash’d within the field, till whips — 
 Like hats, are — -felt! 
 
That dog, sure, is a bore, that’s ever “ flushing ” 
 
 Birds close at hand ; 
 
 He ought — as did “the Duke” against Reform — 
 
 To make a stand! 
 
 Still there is hope, as in most things below. 
 
 However dark : 
 
 Your sportsman gives the orders to his Matthew — 
 
 The birds to “ mark ! ” 
 
 Soon, he’s in some neighb’ring field, though o’er its fence 
 He got no handing : 
 
 I'he birds have once escaped, but some soon fall 
 Must — notwith-s^ow^/^■wg• / 
 
 His lock percussion, it again is ready 
 The birds to snap at : 
 
 Sportsmen still find a something — Classes-like— 
 
 To “ set their cap at /” 
 
 Ah ! know, ye fathers— ye who scorn, from Malthus, 
 Such good advising, — 
 
 ’Tis better far to see against us birds. 
 
 Than children, — rising! 
 
 Poor burden’d birds ! although there’s cause indeed 
 For their alarms, — 
 
 No sportsman’s “piece” destroys the peace quite as 
 A brat “in arms /” 
 
 Dire mishaps to avoid, ’twere well if each. 
 
 E’en ere he “ cocks,” 
 
 As much attention as a smart lass would 
 Pay to his locks ! 
 
Care he should take, too, that his cap percussion 
 Be not too large ; 
 
 But, mostly, he — attorney-like — full well. 
 
 Knows how to charge! 
 
 Seldom, howe’er, your sportsman’s gun goes off 
 To his desiring ; 
 
 Although you'd, think him near allied to “ Swing ” 
 There’s such a firing" 
 
 How pleased is he to view a bird struck by 
 His fatal lead ; 
 
 To “ bag” such haste he makes, we see at once 
 The “quick and dead!" 
 
 Your sportsman, yes, he sometimes spies a wight 
 By him abhorr’d : 
 
 Ah ! that a narrow-minded Keeper e’er 
 Should be a-broad! 
 
 Honour your sportsman should have, and 
 Ne’er so encroach : 
 
 Strange that he should — like greasy Moll, the cook — 
 Be egg'd to poach ! 
 
 But ’tis not Keepers only ’gainst which he 
 Needs a defence ; — 
 
 Clodpoles a “ Largess ” beg, till waste of shillings 
 Shows the ex-pense! 
 
 Confound the fellows ! they’re so covetous. 
 
 Each is a bore : 
 
 Though paid they’re well for all the corn they mow, 
 They ask for more ! 
 
— Ye fair, now ’tis September, I must just 
 Drop a suggestion : — 
 
 No lures will “answer" when men pop the gun. 
 
 And not — “the question !" 
 
 For now with “ Number one" that they’re o’erloaded 
 Shot-belts proclaim ; — 
 
 How fruitless, then, to try — amid such^^r^s — 
 
 To “raise a flame!" 
 
 Besides, my darlings — you who now are dreaming 
 Of “ wedded bliss ” — 
 
 Know, that no sportsman ever yet was much 
 Inclined to miss ! 
 
 — Tow’rds night, the sportsman homeward wends, and cooks 
 For him prepare : 
 
 He then, full tired, forsakes the fowl-mg piece — 
 
 To seek the/are / 
 
 And of a dinner, Englishmen, says Byron, 
 
 They all are lovers ; 
 
 Marvel not, then, if wights who’re fond of sport 
 Should search the covers ! 
 
 Give each a hearty welcome and good cheer. 
 
 Make this a point ; 
 
 And to your butcher send, if — like the time — 
 
 You’re “ out of joint !" 
 
 Of the “ good things,” your sportsman is at dinner 
 No small partaker ; 
 
 So soon he dishes clears, he makes his friend, 
 
 Oh ! quite a quaker ! 
 
Howe’er, he’s not the most ungrateful wight, 
 
 ’Tis plain to trace ; 
 
 If he thus hurts your nerves, he’ll mostly leave 
 Behind — a brace ! 
 
 At eve, when tired, to get ‘‘ quite fresh,” with sportsmen. 
 Appears no sin : 
 
 Of this the fagging — not the brandy — is 
 The ox\-gin I 
 
 “Bull’s-noon” arrived, your sportsman his night-quarters 
 He somehow gains ! 
 
 Tired, and corns dashing, oh ! he then knows what 
 Are shooting pains ! 
 
 Next morning come, off to some other friend’s. 
 
 Elate he flogs ; 
 
 And — carrion-like — again he is, you’d find, 
 
 “ Gone to the dogs /” 
 
 Great Totham Hall, 1856 . 
 
 f 
 
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 TOTHAM, PRINTEI^ HIGH STREET, COLCHESTER.