No comfort he could find.
Whilst thus the "Hunting Chorus" sped
To stay five bars behind.

For tho' by dint of spur he got
A leap in spite of fate--
Howbeit there was no toll at all,
They could not clear the gate.

And, like Fitzjames, he cursed the hunt,
And sorely cursed the day,
And mus'd a new Gray's elegy
On his departed gray.

Huggins now betook him to the Wells--the Hunt was o'er--and many a joke
is told--

How Huggins stood when he was rubb'd
By help and ostler kind,
And when they cleaned the clay before,
How "worse remain'd behind."

And one, how he had found a horse
Adrift--a goodly gray!
And kindly rode the nag, for fear
The nag should go astray.

Huggins claims the horse, and offers "a bottle and a pound" for his
recovery: