Advertisement

ANCIENT SCRIBE HAD JOURNALISTIC TOUCH

Poem Tells How Crowd Cheered as Captains Led Teams on Field--Had Many Modern Accoutrements of Game

"Before them March'd (and as he march'd he played)

Ventoso in his newest Weeds Arrayed

From Leathern Baggs he squeez'd the obstrep'rous tone

Which humming issued thro' the Concave drone,

While the bold youths arrang'd on either hand,

Advertisement

Around the Field in decent order stand,

Amid the throng lame Hobbinol appear'd

And wav'd his Cap in order to be heard.

The Green stood silent in the Midnight Shade,

All tongues but his were still, when thus he said:

'Ye Champions of fair Lusk, and Ye of Soards

View well this ball, the present of your Lords

To outward View, three Folds of Bullocks-Hide,

With Leathern Thongs fast bound on ev'ry side.'

Ball Filled With Hay Not Air.

Advertisement