Through thick and thin, both over bank and bush, Hunting is the noblest exercise,

In hope her to attain by hook or crook.

Faerie Queene, Book iii. Cant, i.

The intent and not the deed

SPENSER.

Makes men laborious, active, wise,

Brings health, and doth the spirits delight,
It helps the hearing and the sight;
It teacheth arts that never slip

Is in our power; and therefore who dares greatly The memory, good horsemanship,

Does greatly.

Barbarossa.

J. BROWN.

66

King Henry IV., Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.

SHAKESPEARE.

Stand, Bayard, stand!" The steed obeyed,

With arching neck and bended head,
And glancing eye, and quivering ear,

As if he loved his lord to hear.

No foot Fitz-James in stirrup staid,
No grasp upon the saddle laid,

But wreathed his left hand in the mane,
And lightly bounded from the plain,
Turned on the horse his armèd heel,
And stirred his courage with the steel.
Bounded the fiery steed in air,
The rider sate erect and fair,

Then, like a bolt from steel cross-bow
Forth launched, along the plain they go.
The Lady of the Lake, Cant. v.

After many strains and heaves,

He got up to the saddle eaves,
From whence he vaulted into th' seat
With so much vigor, strength, and heat,
That he had almost tumbled over
With his own weight, but did recover,
By laying hold of tail and mane,
Which oft he used instead of rein.

Hudibras.

SCOTT.

DR. S. BUTLER.

Search, sharpness, courage and defence,
And chaseth all ill habits hence.
Masques.

BEN JONSON

Contusion hazarding of neck or spine,
Which rural gentlemen call sport divine.

Needless Alarm.

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 forests green,
With bended bow and bloodhound free,
For that 's the life is meet for me!

COWPER.

Lay of the Imprisoned Huntsman: The Lady of the Lake, Cant. vi.

SCOTT.

HUNTING.

Better to hunt in fields for health unbought,
Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught.
The wise for cure on exercise depend;
God never made his work for man to mend.
Cymon and Iphigenia.
DRYDEN.

EMERSON

CONCORD

FARTHER horizons every year."

O tossing pines, which surge and wave
Above the poet's just made grave,
And waken for his sleeping ear
The music that he loved to hear,
Through summer's sun and winter's
chill,

Farther horizons every year."

So he, by reverent hands just laid
Beneath your layers of waving shade,
Climbed as you climb the upward way,
Knowing not boundary nor stay.
His eyes surcharged with heavenly
lights,

With purpose staunch and dauntless His senses steeped in heavenly sights,

will,

Sped by a noble discontent

You climb toward the blue firmament:
Climb as the winds climb, mounting high
The viewless ladders of the sky;
Spurning our lower atmosphere,
Heavy with sighs and dense with night,
And urging upward, year by year,
To ampler air, diviner light.

"Farther horizons every year."
Beneath you pass the tribes of men ;
Your gracious boughs o'ershadow them.
You hear, but do not seem to heed,
Their jarring speech, their faulty creed.
Your roots are firmly set in soil
Won from their humming paths of toil;
Content their lives to watch and share,
To serve them, shelter, and upbear,
Yet but to win an upward way
And larger gift of heaven than they,
Benignant view and attitude,
Close knowledge of celestial sign;
Still working for all earthly good,
While pressing on to the Divine.

His soul attuned to heavenly keys,
How should he pause for rest or ease,
Or turn his winged feet again

To share the common feasts of men ?
He blessed them with his word and
smile

But, still above their fickle moods,
Wooing, constraining him, the while.
Beckoned the shining altitudes.

"Farther horizons every year."
To what immeasurable height,
What clear irradiance of light,
What far and all-transcendent goal,
Hast thou now risen, O steadfast soul!
We may not follow with our eyes
To where the further pathway lies;
Nor guess what vision, vast and free,
God keeps in store for souls like thee.
But still the sentry pines, which wave
Their boughs above thy honored grave,
Shall be thy emblems brave and fit,
Firm rooted in the stalwart sod;
Blessing the earth, while spurning it,
Content with nothing short of God.

May 31, 1882

Publishers: Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston

SUSAN COOLIDGE