LXXV.

The mellow Autumn came, and with it came The promised party, to enjoy its sweets. The corn is cut, the manor full of game; The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats In russet jacket:--lynx-like in his aim; Full grows his bag, and wonder_ful_ his feats. Ah, nutbrown partridges! Ah, brilliant pheasants! And ah, ye poachers!--'T is no sport for peasants.