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текст песни (слова) "Bright Phoebus"
Bright Phoebus has mounted the chariot of day, And the hounds and the horns call each sportsman away, Through meadows and woods with speed now they bound, Whilst health, rosy health, is in exercise found. Hark away is the word to the sound of the horn And echo, blithe echo, makes jovial the morn. Each hill and each valley is lovely to view, While puss flies the covert and dogs quick pursue, Behold where she flies o'er the wide spreading plain, While the loud open pack pursue her amain. Hark away is the word to the sound of the horn And echo, blithe echo, makes jovial the morn. At length puss is caught and lies panting for breath, And the shout of the huntsman's the signal for death, No joys can delight like the sports of the field, To hunting all pleasure and pastime must yield. Hark away is the word to the sound of the horn And echo, blithe echo, makes jovial the morn.