Classic Poem

The man whose vacant mind prepares him to the sport.
The finder sendeth out, to seek out nimble Wat,
Which crosseth in the field, each furlong, every flat,
Till he this pretty beast upon the form hath found,
Then viewing for the course, which is the fairest ground,
The greyhounds forth are brought, for coursing then in case,
And choicely in the slip, one leading forth a brace;
The finder puts her up, and gives her coursers law.
And whilst the eager dogs upon the start do draw,
She riseth from her seat, as though on earth she flew,
Forced by some yelping cute to give the grey-hounds view,
Which are at length let slip, when gunning out they go,
As in respect of them the swiftest wind were slow,
When each man runs his horse, with fixed eyes, and notes
Which dog first turns the hare, which first the other coats,
They wrench her once or twice, e'er she a turn will take,
What's offered by the first, the other good doth make;
And turn for turn again with equal speed they ply,
Bestirring their swift feet with strange agility:
A hardened ridge or way, when if the hare do win,
Then, as shot from a bow, she from the dogs doth spin,
That strive to put her off, but when he cannot reach her,
This giving him a coat, about again doth fetch her
To him that comes behind, which seems the hare to bear;
But with a nimble turn she casts them both arrear:
Till oft for want of breath to fall to ground they make her.
The greyhounds both so spent that they want breath to take her.