" My hawk is tired of perch and hood,
My idle greyhound loathes his food,
My horse is weary of his stall,
And I am sick of captive thrall.
I wish I were as I have been,
Hunting the hart in forest green,
With bended bow, and bloodhound free,
For that 's the life is meet for me, "
My idle greyhound loathes his food,
My horse is weary of his stall,
And I am sick of captive thrall.
I wish I were as I have been,
Hunting the hart in forest green,
With bended bow, and bloodhound free,
For that 's the life is meet for me, "
poem extract from "The Sportsman and His Dog: Or, Hints on Sporting" By Elzéar Blaze, Herbert Byng Hall
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