The Hurling
Of all the sports that please the rural throng,
The goal first claims the effort of my song;
Where mimic war its evolutions shows,
To fly, to harass, to pursue and close.
By games like this imperial Rome began,
Where beardless childhood play'd the warlike man.
Some hoary sage, rever'd by all the train,
Who long had been the champion of the plain,
With placid smile, not with tyrannic sway,
Waves back the crowds, the willing crowds obey.
With knowing ken he marks the level ground,
And plants the willow at the well-known bound.
Reflection fans the half extinguish'd flame,
With fond remembrance of his former fame;
Where oft he Nisus-like skim'd o'er the plain,
Or stood the butt of ev'ry tilting swain;
When shouting maids extoll'd him with their cries,
The rolling orb dim fading in the skies;
Whilst wond'ring they the cloud-veil'd ball pursue,
And whisp'ring ask the place to which it flew:
Fain wou'd he join the youthful band once more,
His heart yet willing — but his strength is o'er.
Affection kindles in each swelling breast,
And all his same unenvy'd is confess'd.
When thus the sage, of former prowess proud,
Becks the attention of the prattling crowd.
" Such were my pow'rs when once I here have stood,
" When strongly flow'd the current of my blood;
" Ere envious age an hoary winter spread
" O'er the thin'd honors of my silver head. "
The lusty youths advance in equal rows;
Each parent's breast with blushing transport glows;
Silk kerchieves bind their close compacted hairs;
Each strong-nerv'd hand a polish'd hurly bears;
Contrasted wreaths their hardy breasts display,
To mark each partner thro' the mazy play;
With ribbon gay which her fair head array'd,
Or homely garter that herself hath made,
Which from her leg with native blush she stole,
Of her chaste love the great, tho' humble dole,
Each buxom lass her fav'rite lad intwines,
Each sturdy band in rustic splendor shines.
The signal made aloft is flung the ball,
All anxious watch impatient for its fall
The steady back their bossy weapons rear,
And twirl them nimbly in th' intrenchant air;
Men above men in quick succession bound,
Hips justle hips, the clashing hurlies found;
'Till one, essays, versed in the wiles of play,
And nimbly sends th'elastic ball away.
The cause remov'd here ends the contest too,
The active whips with hasty steps pursue;
Scud o'er the plain swift as the fleeting wind,
Or tilting leave the prostrate foe behind,
(Foe of the hour, hence harmony and peace,
And friendship clasps them in its close embrace.)
Back to the green the pliant orb they roll,
Each party pointing to the adverse goal;
Now high it flies, then skims the turf below,
As chance, or skill, directs the sounding blow;
'Till stop'd its course the flying wings essay,
Or sturdy force, or quick finesse of play.
Close as the phalanx fam'd in ancient song,
They crowding press the rolling ball along;
Now those succeed, now these reluctant yield,
As crested legions on th' embattl'd field,
O'er some fall'n hero wage the stubborn fray,
To bear triumphantly the spoils away.
True to his charge the goal-man calm surveys
The various efforts, and the winding maze;
Hopes, doubts and fears, alternately arise,
As friends or foes possess the bounding prize,
To lend his aid, tho' eagerly inclin'd,
Still duty binds him to the post assign'd.
Enough the prowess of each swain display'd,
He, bids them cease, who first the bands array'd.
The goal first claims the effort of my song;
Where mimic war its evolutions shows,
To fly, to harass, to pursue and close.
By games like this imperial Rome began,
Where beardless childhood play'd the warlike man.
Some hoary sage, rever'd by all the train,
Who long had been the champion of the plain,
With placid smile, not with tyrannic sway,
Waves back the crowds, the willing crowds obey.
With knowing ken he marks the level ground,
And plants the willow at the well-known bound.
Reflection fans the half extinguish'd flame,
With fond remembrance of his former fame;
Where oft he Nisus-like skim'd o'er the plain,
Or stood the butt of ev'ry tilting swain;
When shouting maids extoll'd him with their cries,
The rolling orb dim fading in the skies;
Whilst wond'ring they the cloud-veil'd ball pursue,
And whisp'ring ask the place to which it flew:
Fain wou'd he join the youthful band once more,
His heart yet willing — but his strength is o'er.
Affection kindles in each swelling breast,
And all his same unenvy'd is confess'd.
When thus the sage, of former prowess proud,
Becks the attention of the prattling crowd.
" Such were my pow'rs when once I here have stood,
" When strongly flow'd the current of my blood;
" Ere envious age an hoary winter spread
" O'er the thin'd honors of my silver head. "
The lusty youths advance in equal rows;
Each parent's breast with blushing transport glows;
Silk kerchieves bind their close compacted hairs;
Each strong-nerv'd hand a polish'd hurly bears;
Contrasted wreaths their hardy breasts display,
To mark each partner thro' the mazy play;
With ribbon gay which her fair head array'd,
Or homely garter that herself hath made,
Which from her leg with native blush she stole,
Of her chaste love the great, tho' humble dole,
Each buxom lass her fav'rite lad intwines,
Each sturdy band in rustic splendor shines.
The signal made aloft is flung the ball,
All anxious watch impatient for its fall
The steady back their bossy weapons rear,
And twirl them nimbly in th' intrenchant air;
Men above men in quick succession bound,
Hips justle hips, the clashing hurlies found;
'Till one, essays, versed in the wiles of play,
And nimbly sends th'elastic ball away.
The cause remov'd here ends the contest too,
The active whips with hasty steps pursue;
Scud o'er the plain swift as the fleeting wind,
Or tilting leave the prostrate foe behind,
(Foe of the hour, hence harmony and peace,
And friendship clasps them in its close embrace.)
Back to the green the pliant orb they roll,
Each party pointing to the adverse goal;
Now high it flies, then skims the turf below,
As chance, or skill, directs the sounding blow;
'Till stop'd its course the flying wings essay,
Or sturdy force, or quick finesse of play.
Close as the phalanx fam'd in ancient song,
They crowding press the rolling ball along;
Now those succeed, now these reluctant yield,
As crested legions on th' embattl'd field,
O'er some fall'n hero wage the stubborn fray,
To bear triumphantly the spoils away.
True to his charge the goal-man calm surveys
The various efforts, and the winding maze;
Hopes, doubts and fears, alternately arise,
As friends or foes possess the bounding prize,
To lend his aid, tho' eagerly inclin'd,
Still duty binds him to the post assign'd.
Enough the prowess of each swain display'd,
He, bids them cease, who first the bands array'd.
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