Classic Poem

My Fox-huntinge

Not at those Groves chast Cynthias worshipt in
Nor mongst Her Brothers Laurells have I been
As far as Delphos soe I might have gon
Or don in Candy my devotion
But Fortune with a smile conducted to
A Coppice wher I sacrefize might doe
Yet save that jorney: Vowes performd at home
Accepted are, soe they in season come.

It was the last chime that the Cock did ring
And first of time all other birds gan sing
When overcom with drink the red fac't Sun
To issue forth his Bed-chamber begun
Who on a suddain cast the Eastern Skie
Into soe perfect a Vermillion dve
That ravisht with such splendor, out of bed
I leapt to win Aurora's maydenhead
Which I obtaind: and ere her bewty drew
Towards a wayne, my Hounds Volpone slew

He was a Rebel, and the Law alotts
To him that bringes in's head a dozen potts
He Tyrannisd on cunnies in the night
And in Lamb-time the snowy flocks wont fright
Great was his guile, strong were his forts: yet all
Searvd not t'prevent his destind Funerall
If we observe the place, that comfort lends
This Fox did end his dayes, midst all his frends
Laxon had mournd for him but that she knew
Ther were those leaft, would keep her Ale still new
And Finsett not dispaires, though he be dead
To see an other Fox ther canvassed
Whilst Hogen-Mogen lasts, or whilst the game
Of Ducks and Cunnies thear remain the same

Heer we performd the Obsequies, and were
As sad as (men a-hungry) with good cheer
Whilst Phoebus (night-capt first after he riss
Now all inmaskt) soe freely gan to piss
That 'fore we could each to his Lares creep
Our garments all were mourning, and did weep
What double now remaines in all this chase?
Save, ore the pantry dore to hange ups case.