And many a score behind—­before—­
    The self-same route inclin’d,
  And minded all to march one way,
    Made one great march of mind.

  Gentle and simple, he and she,
    And swell, and blood, and prig;
  And some had carts, and some a chaise,
    According to their gig.

  Some long-ear’d jacks, some knacker’s hacks,
    (However odd it sounds,)
  Let out that day to hunt, instead
    Of going to the hounds!

  And some had horses of their own,
    And some were forc’d to job it;
  And some, while they inclin’d to Hunt,
    Betook themselves to Cob-it.

  All sorts of vehicles and vans,
    Bad, middling, and the smart;
  Here roll’d along the gay barouche,
    And there a dirty cart!

  And lo! a cart that held a squad
    Of costermonger line;
  With one poor hack, like Pegasus,
    That slav’d for all the Nine!

* * * * *

  And so he paced to Woodford Wells,
    Where many a horseman met,
  And letting go the reins, of course,
    Prepared for heavy wet.

  And lo! within the crowded door,
    Stood Rounding, jovial elf;
  Here shall the Muse frame no excuse,
    But frame the man himself.

The portrait is excellent: 

  A snow white head a merry eye,
    A cheek of jolly blush;
  A claret tint laid on by health,
    With master reynard’s brush.

  A hearty frame, a courteous bow,
    The prince he learn’d it from: 
  His age about three-score and ten,
    And there you have Old Tom.

  In merriest key I trow was he,
    So many guests to boast;
  So certain congregations meet,
    And elevate the host.

They start—­

  But Huggins, hitching on a tree,
    Branched off from all the rest.

Then comes the motley mob—­

  Idlers to wit—­no Guardians some,
    Of Tattlers in a squeeze;
  Ramblers, in heavy carts and vans,
    Spectators up in trees.

  Butchers on backs of butcher’s hacks,
    That shambled to and fro’! 
  Bakers intent upon a buck,
    Neglectful of the dough!

  Change Alley Bears to speculate,
    As usual, for a fall;
  And green and scarlet runners, such
    As never climb’d a wall!

  ’Twas strange to think what difference
    A single creature made;
  A single stag had caused a whole
    Stagnation in their trade.

The deer is brought—–­

  Now Huggins from his saddle rose,
    And in the stirrups stood;
  And lo! a little cart that came
    Hard by a little wood.

  In shape like half a hearse,—­tho’ not
    For corpses in the least;
  For this contained the deer alive,
    And not the dear deceased!