George Whyte-Melville (1821 – 1878)I’ve already confessed to you that George Whyte-Melville and William Henry Ogilvie are my favorite sporting poets. In their works are stitched the insistent rhythms of the galloping horse crossing open country. What follows is an ode to Whyte-Melville written by Ogilvie himself.
In this tribute appear numerous lines, phrases and references cleverly taken from many of Whyte-Melville’s poems. Whoever can extract the greatest number of Whyte-Melville lines and phrases in this poem and identify the Whyte-Melville poems from which they are taken will be named Foxhunting Life’s Most Literate Foxhunter of 2012! To submit your entry, click here.
Whyte-Melville by William Henry Ogilvie
With lightest of hands on the bridle, with lightest of hearts in the dance,
To the gods of Adventure and Laughter he quaffed the red wine of Romance,
Then wistfully turning the goblet he spilled the last drops at our feet,
And left us his tales to remember and left us his songs to repeat.
Where the trumpets of Babylon sounded we have ridden the sands at his side;
Where Ishtar stood pale by the palm trees we have asked for no other as guide.
We have bowed to Valeria’s beauty; with Esca’s our thoughts have gone home;
We have shouted our ‘Ave!’ to Caesar with Hippias, swordsman of Rome.
By many a devious pathway, on many a far-away shore,
We have followed the brave Whyte-Melville in love and sport and war;
We have ridden the wide world over, but always he brought us back
To the red of the English woodlands and the cry of an English pack.
If abroad in the Asphodel meadows some Lord of the Valley be found
That will try though the combes of the starlight the courage of horse and of hound,
Could we ride to those infinite spaces girth deep through the rose of the West,
We should find him once more on the Clipper disputing the lead with the best.
And there with his peers we may leave him, with all the good men and true
Who have come to the Last of the Gateways and laughed and gone galloping through;
Where Kingsley for ever and ever to the chime of his darlings may ride,
And Gordon, long-limbed upon Iseult, come stealing the Cup by a stride!
Posted December 2, 2012
With thanks to my friend Marilyn Mackay-Smith who sent me this poem.