Ye darksome Woods where Echo dwells, <br />Where every bud with freedom swells <br />To meet the glorious day: <br />The morning breaks; again rejoice; <br />And with old Ringwood's well-known voice <br />Bid tuneful Echo play. <br /> <br />We come, ye Groves, ye Hills, we come: <br />The vagrant Fox shall hear: his doom, <br />And dread our jovial train. <br />The shrill Horn sounds, the courser flies, <br />While every Sportsman joyful cries, <br />'There's Ringwood's voice again.' <br /> <br />Ye Meadows, hail the coming throng; <br />Ye peaceful Streams that wind along, <br />Repeat the Hark-away: <br />Far o'er the Downs, ye Gales that sweep, <br />The daring Oak that crowns the steep, <br />The roaring peal convey. <br /> <br />The chiming notes of chearful Hounds, <br />Hark! how the hollow Dale resounds; <br />The sunny Hills how gay. <br />But where's the note, brave Dog, like thine? <br />Then urge the Steed, the chorus join, <br />'Tis Ringwood leads the way.<br /><br />Robert Bloomfield<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hunting-song-5/
