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 wonderful his feats.

Ah, nutbrown partridges! Ah, brilliant pheasants!

And ah, ye poachers!—'T is no sport for peasants.