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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519216" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Song Of Exmoor</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Forest above and the Combe below,<br>On a bright September morn!<br>He's the soul of a clod who thanks not God<br>That ever his body was born!<br>So hurry along, the stag's afoot,<br>The Master's up and away!<br>Halloo! Halloo! we'll follow it through<br>From Bratton to Porlock Bay!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So hurry along, the stag's afoot,<br>The Master's up and away!<br>Halloo! Halloo! we'll follow it through<br>From Bratton to Porlock Bay!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hark to the tufters' challenge true,<br>'Tis a note that the red-deer knows!<br>His courage awakes, his covert he breaks,<br>And up for the moor he goes!<br>He's all his rights and seven on top,<br>His eye's the eye of a king,<br>And he'll beggar the pride of some that ride<br>Before he leaves the ling!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here comes Antony bringing the pack,<br>Steady! he's laying them on!<br>By the sound of their chime you may tell that it's time<br>To harden your heart and be gone.<br>Nightacott, Narracott, Hunnacott's passed,<br>Right for the North they race:<br>He's leading them straight for Blackmoor Gate,<br>And he's setting a pounding pace!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We're running him now on a breast-high scent,<br>But he leaves us standing still;<br>When we swing round by Westland Pound<br>He's far up Challacombe Hill.<br>The pack are a string of struggling ants,<br>The quarry's a dancing midge,<br>They're trying their reins on the edge of the Chains<br>While he's on Cheriton Ridge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He's gone by Kittuck and Lucott Moor,<br>He's gone by Woodcock's Ley;<br>By the little white town he's turned him down,<br>And he's soiling in open sea.<br>So hurry along, we'll both be in,<br>The crowd are a parish away!<br>We're a field of two, and we've followed it through<br>From Bratton to Porlock Bay!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So hurry along, we'll both be in,<br>The crowd are a parish away!<br>We're a field of two, and we've followed it through<br>From Bratton to Porlock Bay!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sir+Henry+Newbolt">Sir Henry Newbolt</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519216" data-title="A Song Of Exmoor de Sir Henry Newbolt" data-description="The Forest above and the Combe below,
On a bright September morn!
He's the soul of a clod who thanks not God
That ever his body was born!
So hurry along, the stag's afoot,
The Master's up and away!
Halloo! Halloo! we'll follow it through
From Brat..."></div>
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