Of King Edgar and his imposing a tribute of wolves' heads upon the kings of Wales: from hence a transition to fox-hunting, which is described in all its parts.—Censure of an over-numerous pack.—Of the several engines to destroy foxes, and other wild beasts.—The steel-trap described, and the manner of using it.—Description of the pitfall for the lion; and another for the elephant.—The ancient way of hunting the tiger with a mirror.—The Arabian manner of hunting the wild boar.—Description of the royal stag-chase at Windsor Forest.—Concludes with an address to his Majesty, and an eulogy upon mercy.
In Albion's isle when glorious Edgar reigned,He wisely provident, from her white cliffsLaunched half her forests, and with numerous fleetsCovered his wide domain: there proudly rodeLord of the deep, the great prerogativeOf British monarchs. Each invader bold,Dane and Norwegian, at a distance gazed,And disappointed, gnashed his teeth in vain.He scoured the seas, and to remotest shoresWith swelling sails the trembling corsair fled._10Rich commerce flourished; and with busy oarsDashed the resounding surge. Nor less at landHis royal cares; wise, potent, gracious prince!His subjects from their cruel foes he saved,And from rapacious savages their flocks.Cambria's proud kings (though with reluctance) paidTheir tributary wolves; head after head,In full account, till the woods yield no more,And all the ravenous race extinct is lost.In fertile pastures, more securely grazed_20The social troops; and soon their large increaseWith curling fleeces whitened all the plains.But yet, alas! the wily fox remained,A subtle, pilfering foe, prowling around 24In midnight shades, and wakeful to destroy.In the full fold, the poor defenceless lamb,Seized by his guileful arts, with sweet warm bloodSupplies a rich repast. The mournful ewe,Her dearest treasure lost, through the dun nightWanders perplexed, and darkling bleats in vain:_30While in the adjacent bush, poor Philomel,(Herself a parent once, till wanton churlsDespoiled her nest) joins in her loud laments,With sweeter notes, and more melodious woe.For these nocturnal thieves, huntsman, prepareThy sharpest vengeance. Oh! how glorious 'tisTo right the oppressed, and bring the felon vileTo just disgrace! Ere yet the morning peep,Or stars retire from the first blush of day,With thy far-echoing voice alarm thy pack,_40And rouse thy bold compeers. Then to the copse,Thick with entangling grass, or prickly furze,With silence lead thy many-coloured hounds,In all their beauty's pride. See! how they rangeDispersed, how busily this way and that,They cross, examining with curious noseEach likely haunt. Hark! on the drag I hearTheir doubtful notes, preluding to a cryMore nobly full, and swelled with every mouth.As straggling armies at the trumpet's voice,_50Press to their standard; hither all repair,And hurry through the woods; with hasty stepBustling, and full of hope; now driven on heapsThey push, they strive; while from his kennel sneaksThe conscious villain. See! he skulks along,Sleek at the shepherd's cost, and plump with mealsPurloined. So thrive the wicked here below.Though high his brush he bear, though tipped with whiteIt gaily shine; yet ere the sun declinedRecall the shades of night, the pampered rogue_60Shall rue his fate reversed; and at his heelsBehold the just avenger, swift to seizeHis forfeit head, and thirsting for his blood.Heavens! what melodious strains! how beat our heartsBig with tumultuous joy! the loaded galesBreathe harmony; and as the tempest drivesFrom wood to wood, through every dark recessThe forest thunders, and the mountains shake.The chorus swells; less various, and less sweetThe trilling notes, when in those very groves,_70The feathered choristers salute the spring,And every bush in concert joins; or whenThe master's hand, in modulated air,Bids the loud organ breathe, and all the powersOf music in one instrument combine,An universal minstrelsy. And nowIn vain each earth he tries, the doors are barredImpregnable, nor is the covert safe;He pants for purer air. Hark! what loud shoutsRe-echo through the groves! he breaks away,_80Shrill horns proclaim his flight. Each straggling houndStrains o'er the lawn to reach the distant pack.'Tis triumph all and joy. Now, my brave youths,Now give a loose to the clean generous steed;Flourish the whip, nor spare the galling spur;But in the madness of delight, forgetYour fears. Far o'er the rocky hills we range,And dangerous our course; but in the braveTrue courage never fails. In vain the streamIn foaming eddies whirls; in vain the ditch_90Wide-gaping threatens death. The craggy steepWhere the poor dizzy shepherd crawls with care,And clings to every twig, gives us no pain;But down we sweep, as stoops the falcon boldTo pounce his prey. Then up the opponent hill,By the swift motion slung, we mount aloft:So ships in winter-seas now sliding sinkAdown the steepy wave, then tossed on highRide on the billows, and defy the storm.What lengths we pass! where will the wandering chase_100Lead us bewildered! smooth as the swallows skimThe new-shorn mead, and far more swift we fly.See my brave pack! how to the head they press,Jostling in close array; then more diffuseObliquely wheel, while from their opening mouthsThe vollied thunder breaks. So when the cranesTheir annual voyage steer, with wanton wingTheir figure oft they change, and their loud clangFrom cloud to cloud rebounds. How far behindThe hunter-crew, wide straggling o'er the plain!_110The panting courser now with trembling nervesBegins to reel; urged by the goring spur,Makes many a faint effort: he snorts, he foams,The big round drops run trickling down his sides,With sweat and blood distained. Look back and viewThe strange confusion of the vale below,Where sour vexation reigns; see yon poor jade,In vain the impatient rider frets and swears,With galling spurs harrows his mangled sides;He can no more: his stiff unpliant limbs_120Rooted in earth, unmoved and fixed he stands,For every cruel curse returns a groan,And sobs, and faints, and dies. Who without griefCan view that pampered steed, his master's joy,His minion, and his daily care, well clothed,Well fed with every nicer cate; no cost,No labour spared; who, when the flying chaseBroke from the copse, without a rival ledThe numerous train: now a sad spectacleOf pride brought low, and humbled insolence,_130Drove like a panniered ass, and scourged along.While these with loosened reins, and dangling heels,Hang on their reeling palfreys, that scarce bearTheir weights; another in the treacherous bogLies floundering half engulfed. What biting thoughtsTorment the abandoned crew! Old age lamentsHis vigour spent: the tall, plump, brawny youthCurses his cumbrous bulk; and envies nowThe short Pygmean race, he whilom kenn'dWith proud insulting leer. A chosen few_140Alone the sport enjoy, nor droop beneathTheir pleasing toils. Here, huntsman, from this heightObserve yon birds of prey; if I can judge,'Tis there the villain lurks; they hover roundAnd claim him as their own. Was I not right?See! there he creeps along; his brush he drags,And sweeps the mire impure; from his wide jawsHis tongue unmoistened hangs; symptoms too sureOf sudden death. Ha! yet he flies, nor yieldsTo black despair. But one loose more, and all_150His wiles are vain. Hark! through yon village nowThe rattling clamour rings. The barns, the cotsAnd leafless elms return the joyous sounds.Through every homestall, and through every yard,His midnight walks, panting, forlorn, he flies;Through every hole he sneaks, through every jakesPlunging he wades besmeared, and fondly hopesIn a superior stench to lose his own:But faithful to the track, the unerring houndsWith peals of echoing vengeance close pursue._160And now distressed, no sheltering covert near,Into the hen-roost creeps, whose walls with goreDistained attest his guilt. There, villain, thereExpect thy fate deserved. And soon from thenceThe pack inquisitive, with clamour loud,Drag out their trembling prize; and on his bloodWith greedy transport feast. In bolder notesEach sounding horn proclaims the felon dead:And all the assembled village shouts for joy.The farmer who beholds his mortal foe_170Stretched at his feet, applauds the glorious deed,And grateful calls us to a short repast!In the full glass the liquid amber smiles,Our native product. And his good old mateWith choicest viands heaps the liberal board,To crown our triumphs, and reward our toils.Here must the instructive Muse (but with respect)Censure that numerous pack, that crowd of state,With which the vain profusion of the greatCovers the lawn, and shakes the trembling copse._180Pompous incumbrance! A magnificenceUseless, vexatious! For the wily fox,Safe in the increasing number of his foes,Kens well the great advantage: slinks behindAnd slily creeps through the same beaten track,And hunts them step by step; then views escapedWith inward ecstasy, the panting throngIn their own footsteps puzzled, foiled and lost.So when proud Eastern kings summon to armsTheir gaudy legions, from far distant climes_190They flock in crowds, unpeopling half a world:But when the day of battle calls them forthTo charge the well-trained foe, a band compactOf chosen veterans; they press blindly on,In heaps confused, by their own weapons fall,A smoking carnage scattered o'er the plain.Nor hounds alone this noxious brood destroy:The plundered warrener full many a wileDevises to entrap his greedy foe,Fat with nocturnal spoils. At close of day,_200With silence drags his trail; then from the groundPares thin the close-grazed turf, there with nice handCovers the latent death, with curious springsPrepared to fly at once, whene'er the treadOf man or beast unwarily shall pressThe yielding surface. By the indented steelWith gripe tenacious held, the felon grins,And struggles, but in vain: yet oft 'tis known,When every art has failed, the captive foxHas shared the wounded joint, and with a limb_210Compounded for his life. But if perchanceIn the deep pitfall plunged, there's no escape;But unreprieved he dies, and bleached in airThe jest of clowns, his reeking carcase hangs.Of these are various kinds; not even the kingOf brutes evades this deep devouring grave:But by the wily African betrayed,Heedless of fate, within its gaping jawsExpires indignant. When the orient beamWith blushes paints the dawn; and all the race_220Carnivorous, with blood full-gorged, retireInto their darksome cells, there satiate snoreO'er dripping offals, and the mangled limbsOf men and beasts; the painful forester 224Climbs the high hills, whose proud aspiring tops,With the tall cedar crowned, and taper fir,Assail the clouds. There 'mong the craggy rocks,And thickets intricate, trembling he viewsHis footsteps in the sand; the dismal roadAnd avenue to death. Hither he calls_230His watchful bands; and low into the groundA pit they sink, full many a fathom deep.Then in the midst a column high is reared,The butt of some fair tree; upon whose topA lamb is placed, just ravished from his dam.And next a wall they build, with stones and earthEncircling round, and hiding from all viewThe dreadful precipice. Now when the shadesOf night hang lowering o'er the mountain's brow;And hunger keen, and pungent thirst of blood,_240Rouse up the slothful beast, he shakes his sides,Slow-rising from his lair, and stretches wideHis ravenous jaws, with recent gore distained.The forests tremble, as he roars aloud,Impatient to destroy. O'erjoyed he hearsThe bleating innocent, that claims in vainThe shepherd's care, and seeks with piteous moanThe foodful teat; himself, alas! designedAnother's meal. For now the greedy bruteWinds him from far; and leaping o'er the mound_250To seize his trembling prey, headlong is plungedInto the deep abyss. Prostrate he liesAstunned and impotent. Ah! what availThine eye-balls flashing fire, thy length of tail,That lashes thy broad sides, thy jaws besmearedWith blood and offals crude, thy shaggy maneThe terror of the woods, thy stately port,And bulk enormous, since by stratagemThy strength is foiled? Unequal is the strife,When sovereign reason combats brutal rage._260On distant Ethiopia's sun-burnt coasts,The black inhabitants a pitfall frame,But of a different kind, and different use.With slender poles the wide capacious mouth,And hurdles slight, they close; o'er these is spreadA floor of verdant turf, with all its flowersSmiling delusive, and from strictest searchConcealing the deep grave that yawns below.Then boughs of trees they cut, with tempting fruitOf various kinds surcharged; the downy peach,_270The clustering vine, and of bright golden rindThe fragrant orange. Soon as evening grayAdvances slow, besprinkling all aroundWith kind refreshing dews the thirsty glebe,The stately elephant from the close shadeWith step majestic strides, eager to tasteThe cooler breeze, that from the sea-beat shoreDelightful breathes, or in the limpid streamTo lave his panting sides; joyous he scentsThe rich repast, unweeting of the death_280That lurks within. And soon he sporting breaksThe brittle boughs, and greedily devoursThe fruit delicious. Ah! too dearly bought;The price is life. For now the treacherous turfTrembling gives way; and the unwieldy beastSelf-sinking, drops into the dark profound.So when dilated vapours, struggling heaveThe incumbent earth; if chance the caverned groundShrinking subside, and the thin surface yield,Down sinks at once the ponderous dome, engulfed_290With all its towers. Subtle, delusive man!How various are thy wiles! artful to killThy savage foes, a dull unthinking race!Fierce from his lair, springs forth the speckled pard,Thirsting for blood, and eager to destroy;The huntsman flies, but to his flight aloneConfides not: at convenient distance fixed,A polished mirror stops in full careerThe furious brute: he there his image views;Spots against spots with rage improving glow;_300Another pard his bristly whiskers curls,Grins as he grins, fierce-menacing, and wideDistends his opening jaws; himself againstHimself opposed, and with dread vengeance armed.The huntsman now secure, with fatal aimDirects the pointed spear, by which transfixedHe dies, and with him dies the rival shade.Thus man innumerous engines forms, to assailThe savage kind: but most the docile horse,Swift and confederate with man, annoys_310His brethren of the plains; without whose aidThe hunter's arts are vain, unskilled to wageWith the more active brutes an equal war.But borne by him, without the well-trained pack,Man dares his foe, on wings of wind secure.Him the fierce Arab mounts, and with his troopOf bold compeers, ranges the deserts wild,Where by the magnet's aid, the travellerSteers his untrodden course; yet oft on landIs wrecked, in the high-rolling waves of sand_320Immersed and lost; while these intrepid bands,Safe in their horses' speed, out-fly the storm,And scouring round, make men and beasts their prey.The grisly boar is singled from his herdAs large as that in Erimanthian woods.A match for Hercules. Round him they flyIn circles wide; and each in passing sendsHis feathered death into his brawny sides.But perilous the attempt. For if the steedHaply too near approach; or the loose earth_330His footing fail; the watchful angry beastThe advantage spies; and at one sidelong glanceRips up his groin. Wounded, he rears aloft,And plunging, from his back the rider hurlsPrecipitant; then bleeding spurns the ground,And drags his reeking entrails o'er the plain.Meanwhile the surly monster trots along,But with unequal speed; for still they wound,Swift-wheeling in the spacious ring. A woodOf darts upon his back he bears; adown_340His tortured sides, the crimson torrents rollFrom many a gaping font. And now at lastStaggering he falls, in blood and foam expires.But whither roves my devious Muse, intentOn antique tales, while yet the royal stagUnsung remains? Tread with respectful aweWindsor's green glades; where Denham, tuneful bard,Charmed once the listening dryads, with his songSublimely sweet. Oh! grant me, sacred shade,To glean submiss what thy full sickle leaves._350The morning sun that gilds with trembling raysWindsor's high towers, beholds the courtly trainMount for the chase, nor views in all his courseA scene so gay: heroic, noble youths,In arts and arms renowned, and lovely nymphsThe fairest of this isle, where Beauty dwellsDelighted, and deserts her Paphian groveFor our more favoured shades: in proud paradeThese shine magnificent, and press aroundThe royal happy pair. Great in themselves,_360They smile superior; of external showRegardless, while their inbred virtues giveA lustre to their power, and grace their courtWith real splendours, far above the pompOf eastern kings, in all their tinsel pride.Like troops of Amazons, the female bandPrance round their cars, not in refulgent armsAs those of old; unskilled to wield the sword,Or bend the bow, these kill with surer aim.The royal offspring, fairest of the fair,_370Lead on the splendid train. Anna, more brightThan summer suns, or as the lightning keen,With irresistible effulgence armed,Fires every heart. He must be more than man,Who unconcerned can bear the piercing ray.Amelia, milder than the blushing dawn,With sweet engaging air, but equal power,Insensibly subdues, and in soft chainsHer willing captives leads. Illustrious maids,Ever triumphant! whose victorious charms,_380Without the needless aid of high descent,Had awed mankind, and taught the world's great lordsTo bow and sue for grace. But who is heFresh as a rose-bud newly blown, and fairAs opening lilies; on whom every eyeWith joy and admiration dwells? See, see,He reins his docile barb with manly grace.Is it Adonis for the chase arrayed?Or Britain's second hope? Hail, blooming youth![9]May all your virtues with your years improve,_390Till in consumate worth, you shine the prideOf these our days, and to succeeding timesA bright example. As his guard of mutesOn the great sultan wait, with eyes dejectAnd fixed on earth, no voice, no sound is heardWithin the wide serail, but all is hushed,And awful silence reigns; thus stand the packMute and unmoved, and cowering low to earth,While pass the glittering court, and royal pair:So disciplined those hounds, and so reserved,_400Whose honour 'tis to glad the hearts of kings.But soon the winding horn, and huntsman's voice,Let loose the general chorus; far aroundJoy spreads its wings, and the gay morning smiles.Unharboured now the royal stag forsakesHis wonted lair; he shakes his dappled sides,And tosses high his beamy head, the copseBeneath his antlers bends. What doubling shiftsHe tries! not more the wily hare; in theseWould still persist, did not the full-mouthed pack_410With dreadful concert thunder in his rear.The woods reply, the hunter's cheering shoutsFloat through the glades, and the wide forest rings.How merrily they chant! their nostrils deepInhale the grateful steam. Such is the cry,And such the harmonious din, the soldier deemsThe battle kindling, and the statesman graveForgets his weighty cares; each age, each sexIn the wild transport joins; luxuriant joy,And pleasure in excess, sparkling exult_420On every brow, and revel unrestrained.How happy art thou, man, when thou 'rt no moreThyself! when all the pangs that grind thy soul,In rapture and in sweet oblivion lost,Yield a short interval, and ease from pain!See the swift courser strains, his shining hoofsSecurely beat the solid ground. Who nowThe dangerous pitfall fears, with tangling heathHigh-overgrown? Or who the quivering bogSoft yielding to the step? All now is plain,_430Plain as the strand sea-laved, that stretches farBeneath the rocky shore. Glades crossing gladesThe forest opens to our wondering view:Such was the king's command. Let tyrants fierceLay waste the world; his the more glorious partTo check their pride; and when the brazen voiceOf war is hushed (as erst victorious Rome)To employ his stationed legions in the worksOf peace; to smoothe the rugged wilderness,To drain the stagnate fen, to raise the slope_440Depending road, and to make gay the faceOf nature, with the embellishments of art.How melts my beating heart! as I beholdEach lovely nymph our island's boast and pride,Push on the generous steed, that strokes alongO'er rough, o'er smooth, nor heeds the steepy hill,Nor falters in the extended vale below:Their garments loosely waving in the wind,And all the flush of beauty in their cheeks!While at their sides their pensive lovers wait,_450Direct their dubious course; now chilled with fearSolicitous, and now with love inflamed.Oh! grant, indulgent Heaven, no rising stormMay darken with black wings, this glorious scene!Should some malignant power thus damp our joys,Vain were the gloomy cave, such as of oldBetrayed to lawless love the Tyrian queen.For Britain's virtuous nymphs are chaste as fair,Spotless, unblamed, with equal triumph reignIn the dun gloom, as in the blaze of day._460Now the blown stag, through woods, bogs, roads, and streamsHas measured half the forest; but alas!He flies in vain, he flies not from his fears.Though far he cast the lingering pack behind,His haggard fancy still with horror viewsThe fell destroyer; still the fatal cryInsults his ears, and wounds his trembling heart.So the poor fury-haunted wretch (his handsIn guiltless blood distained) still seems to hear
The dying shrieks; and the pale threatening ghost_470Moves as he moves, and as he flies pursues.See here his slot; up yon green hill he climbs,Pants on its brow a while, sadly looks backOn his pursuers, covering all the plain;But wrung with anguish, bears not long the sight,Shoots down the steep, and sweats along the vale:There mingles with the herd, where once he reignedProud monarch of the groves, whose clashing beam
His rivals awed, and whose exalted powerWas still rewarded with successful love._480But the base herd have learned the ways of men,Averse they fly, or with rebellious aimChase him from thence: needless their impious deed,The huntsman knows him by a thousand marks,Black, and embossed; nor are his hounds deceived;Too well distinguish these, and never leaveTheir once devoted foe; familiar growsHis scent, and strong their appetite to kill.Again he flies, and with redoubled speedSkims o'er the lawn; still the tenacious crew_490Hang on the track, aloud demand their prey,And push him many a league. If haply thenToo far escaped, and the gay courtly trainBehind are cast, the huntsman's clanging whipStops full their bold career; passive they stand,Unmoved, an humble, an obsequious crowd,As if by stern Medusa gazed to stones.So at their general's voice whole armies haltIn full pursuit, and check their thirst of blood.Soon at the king's command, like hasty streams_500Dammed up a while, they foam, and pour alongWith fresh-recruited might. The stag, who hopedHis foes were lost, now once more hears astunnedThe dreadful din; he shivers every limb,He starts, he bounds; each bush presents a foe.Pressed by the fresh relay, no pause allowed,Breathless, and faint, he falters in his pace,And lifts his weary limbs with pain, that scarceSustain their load! he pants, he sobs appalled;Drops down his heavy head to earth, beneath_510His cumbrous beams oppressed. But if perchanceSome prying eye surprise him; soon he rearsErect his towering front, bounds o'er the lawnWith ill-dissembled vigour, to amuseThe knowing forester; who inly smiles
At his weak shifts, and unavailing frauds.So midnight tapers waste their last remains,Shine forth a while, and as they blaze expire.From wood to wood redoubling thunders roll,And bellow through the vales; the moving storm_520Thickens amain, and loud triumphant shouts,And horns shrill-warbling in each glade, preludeTo his approaching fate. And now in viewWith hobbling gait, and high, exerts amazedWhat strength is left: to the last dregs of lifeReduced, his spirits fail, on every sideHemmed in, besieged; not the least opening leftTo gleaming hope, the unhappy's last reserve.Where shall he turn? or whither fly? DespairGives courage to the weak. Resolved to die,_530He fears no more, but rushes on his foes,And deals his deaths around; beneath his feetThese grovelling lie, those by his antlers goredDefile the ensanguined plain. Ah! see distressedHe stands at bay against yon knotty trunk,That covers well his rear, his front presentsAn host of foes. Oh! shun, ye noble train,The rude encounter, and believe your livesYour country's due alone. As now aloofThey wing around, he finds his soul upraised_540To dare some great exploit; he charges homeUpon the broken pack, that on each sideFly diverse; then as o'er the turf he strains,He vents the cooling stream, and up the breezeUrges his course with eager violence:Then takes the soil, and plunges in the floodPrecipitant; down the mid-stream he waftsAlong, till (like a ship distressed, that runsInto some winding creek) close to the vergeOf a small island, for his weary feet_550Sure anchorage he finds, there skulks immersed.His nose alone above the wave draws inThe vital air; all else beneath the floodConcealed, and lost, deceives each prying eyeOf man or brute. In vain the crowding packDraw on the margin of the stream, or cutThe liquid wave with oary feet, that moveIn equal time. The gliding waters leaveNo trace behind, and his contracted poresBut sparingly perspire: the huntsman strains_560His labouring lungs, and puffs his cheeks in vain;At length a blood-hound bold, studious to kill,And exquisite of sense, winds him from far;Headlong he leaps into the flood, his mouthLoud opening spends amain, and his wide throatSwells every note with joy; then fearless divesBeneath the wave, hangs on his haunch, and woundsThe unhappy brute, that flounders in the stream,Sorely distressed, and struggling strives to mountThe steepy shore. Haply once more escaped,_570Again he stands at bay, amid the grovesOf willows, bending low their downy heads.Outrageous transport fires the greedy pack;These swim the deep, and those crawl up with painThe slippery bank, while others on firm landEngage; the stag repels each bold assault,Maintains his post, and wounds for wounds returns.As when some wily corsair boards a shipFull-freighted, or from Afric's golden coasts,Or India's wealthy strand, his bloody crew_580Upon her deck he slings; these in the deepDrop short, and swim to reach her steepy sides,And clinging, climb aloft; while those on boardUrge on the work of fate; the master bold,Pressed to his last retreat, bravely resolvesTo sink his wealth beneath the whelming wave,His wealth, his foes, nor unrevenged to die.So fares it with the stag: so he resolvesTo plunge at once into the flood below,Himself, his foes in one deep gulf immersed._590Ere yet he executes this dire intent,In wild disorder once more views the light;Beneath a weight of woe, he groans distressed:The tears run trickling down his hairy cheeks;He weeps, nor weeps in vain. The king beholdsHis wretched plight, and tenderness innateMoves his great soul. Soon at his high commandRebuked, the disappointed, hungry packRetire submiss, and grumbling quit their prey.Great Prince! from thee, what may thy subjects hope;_600So kind, and so beneficent to brutes?O mercy, heavenly born! Sweet attribute!Thou great, thou best prerogative of power!Justice may guard the throne, but joined with thee,On rocks of adamant it stands secure,And braves the storm beneath; soon as thy smilesGild the rough deep, the foaming waves subside,And all the noisy tumult sinks in peace.
Of the necessity of destroying some beasts, and preserving others for the use of man.—Of breeding of hounds; the season for this business.—The choice of the dog, of great moment.—Of the litter of whelps.—Number to be reared.—Of setting them out to their several walks.—Care to be taken to prevent their hunting too soon.—Of entering the whelps.—Of breaking them from running at sheep.-Of the diseases of hounds.-Of their age.—Of madness; two sorts of it described, the dumb, and outrageous madness: its dreadful effects.—Burning of the wound recommended as preventing all ill consequences.—The infectious hounds to be separated, and fed apart.—The vanity of trusting to the many infallible cures for this malady.—The dismal effects of the biting of a mad dog, upon man, described. —Description of the otter hunting.—The conclusion.
Whate'er of earth is formed, to earth returnsDissolved: the various objects we behold,Plants, animals, this whole material mass,Are ever changing, ever new. The soulOf man alone, that particle divine,Escapes the wreck of worlds, when all things fail.Hence great the distance 'twixt the beasts that perish,And God's bright image, man's immortal race.The brute creation are his property,Subservient to his will, and for him made._10As hurtful these he kills, as useful thosePreserves; their sole and arbitrary king.Should he not kill, as erst the Samian sageTaught unadvised, and Indian Brahmins nowAs vainly preach; the teeming ravenous brutesMight fill the scanty space of this terrene,Encumbering all the globe: should not his careImprove his growing stock, their kinds might fail,Man might once more on roots, and acorns, feed,And through the deserts range, shivering, forlorn,_20Quite destitute of every solace dear,And every smiling gaiety of life.The prudent huntsman, therefore, will supply,With annual large recruits, his broken pack,And propagate their kind. As from the rootFresh scions still spring forth, and daily yieldNew blooming honours to the parent-tree;Far shall his pack be famed, far sought his breed,And princes at their tables feast those houndsHis hand presents, an acceptable boon._30Ere yet the Sun through the bright Ram has urgedHis steepy course, or mother Earth unboundHer frozen bosom to the western gale;When feathered troops, their social leagues dissolved,Select their mates, and on the leafless elmThe noisy rook builds high her wicker nest;Mark well the wanton females of thy pack,That curl their taper tails, and frisking courtTheir pyebald mates enamoured; their red eyesFlash fires impure; nor rest, nor food they take,_40Goaded by furious love. In separate cellsConfine them now, lest bloody civil warsAnnoy thy peaceful state. If left at large,The growling rivals in dread battle join,And rude encounter. On Scamander's streamsHeroes of old with far less fury fought,For the bright Spartan dame, their valour's prize.Mangled and torn thy favourite hounds shall lie,Stretched on the ground; thy kennel shall appearA field of blood: like some unhappy town_50In civil broils confused, while Discord shakesHer bloody scourge aloft, fierce parties rage,Staining their impious hands in mutual death.And still the best beloved, and bravest fall:Such are the dire effects of lawless love.Huntsman! these ills by timely prudent carePrevent: for every longing dame selectSome happy paramour; to him aloneIn leagues connubial join. Consider wellHis lineage; what his fathers did of old,_60Chiefs of the pack, and first to climb the rock,Or plunge into the deep, or thread the brakeWith thorns sharp-pointed, plashed, and briers inwoven.Observe with care his shape, sort, colour, size.Nor will sagacious huntsmen less regardHis inward habits: the vain babbler shun,Ever loquacious, ever in the wrong.His foolish offspring shall offend thy earsWith false alarms, and loud impertinence.Nor less the shifting cur avoid, that breaks_70Illusive from the pack; to the next hedgeDevious he strays, there every mews he tries:If haply then he cross the steaming scent,Away he flies vain-glorious; and exultsAs of the pack supreme, and in his speedAnd strength unrivalled. Lo! cast far behindHis vexed associates pant, and labouring strainTo climb the steep ascent. Soon as they reachThe insulting boaster, his false courage fails,Behind he lags, doomed to the fatal noose,_80His master's hate, and scorn of all the field.What can from such be hoped, but a base broodOf coward curs, a frantic, vagrant race?When now the third revolving moon appears,With sharpened horns, above the horizon's brink;Without Lucina's aid, expect thy hopesAre amply crowned; short pangs produce to lightThe smoking litter; crawling, helpless, blind,Nature their guide, they seek the pouting teatThat plenteous streams. Soon as the tender dam_90Has formed them with her tongue, with pleasure viewThe marks of their renowned progenitors,Sure pledge of triumphs yet to come. All theseSelect with joy; but to the merciless floodExpose the dwindling refuse, nor o'erloadThe indulgent mother. If thy heart relent,Unwilling to destroy, a nurse provide,And to the foster-parent give the careOf thy superfluous brood; she'll cherish kindThe alien offspring; pleased thou shalt behold_100Her tenderness, and hospitable love.If frolic now, and playful they desertTheir gloomy cell, and on the verdant turfWith nerves improved, pursue the mimic chase,Coursing around; unto thy choicest friendsCommit thy valued prize: the rustic damesShall at thy kennel wait, and in their lapsReceive thy growing hopes, with many a kissCaress, and dignify their little chargeWith some great title, and resounding name_110Of high import. But cautious here observeTo check their youthful ardour, nor permitThe unexperienced younker, immature,Alone to range the woods, or haunt the brakesWhere dodging conies sport: his nerves unstrung,And strength unequal; the laborious chaseShall stint his growth, and his rash forward youthContract such vicious habits, as thy careAnd late correction never shall reclaim.When to full strength arrived, mature and bold,_120Conduct them to the field; not all at onceBut as thy cooler prudence shall direct,Select a few, and form them by degreesTo stricter discipline. With these consortThe stanch and steady sages of thy pack,By long experience versed in all the wiles,And subtle doublings of the various chase.Easy the lesson of the youthful train,When instinct prompts, and when example guides.If the too forward younker at the head_130Press boldly on, in wanton sportive mood,Correct his haste, and let him feel abashedThe ruling whip. But if he stoop behindIn wary modest guise, to his own noseConfiding sure; give him full scope to workHis winding way, and with thy voice applaudHis patience, and his care; soon shalt thou viewThe hopeful pupil leader of his tribe,And all the listening pack attend his call.Oft lead them forth where wanton lambkins play,_140And bleating dams with jealous eyes observeTheir tender care. If at the crowding flockHe bay presumptuous, or with eager hastePursue them scattered o'er the verdant plain;In the foul fact attached, to the strong ramTie fast the rash offender. See! at firstHis horned companion, fearful, and amazed,Shall drag him trembling o'er the rugged ground;Then with his load fatigued, shall turn a-head,And with his curled hard front incessant peal_150The panting wretch; till breathless and astunned,Stretched on the turf he lie. Then spare not thouThe twining whip, but ply his bleeding sidesLash after lash, and with thy threatening voice,Harsh-echoing from the hills, inculcate loudHis vile offence. Sooner shall trembling dovesEscaped the hawk's sharp talons, in mid air,Assail their dangerous foe, than he once moreDisturb the peaceful flocks. In tender ageThus youth is trained; as curious artists bend_160The taper, pliant twig; or potters formTheir soft and ductile clay to various shapes.Nor is't enough to breed; but to preserveMust be the huntsman's care. The stanch old houndsGuides of thy pack, though but in number few,Are yet of great account; shall oft untieThe Gordian knot, when reason at a standPuzzling is lost, and all thy art is vain.O'er clogging fallows, o'er dry plastered roads,O'er floated meads, o'er plains with flocks distained_170Rank-scenting, these must lead the dubious way.As party-chiefs in senates who preside,With pleaded reason and with well turned speechConduct the staring multitude; so theseDirect the pack, who with joint cry approve,And loudly boast discoveries not their own.Unnumbered accidents, and various ills,Attend thy pack, hang hovering o'er their heads,And point the way that leads to Death's dark cave.Short is their span; few at the date arriveOf ancient Argus in old Homer's song_180So highly honoured: kind, sagacious brute!Not even Minerva's wisdom could concealThy much-loved master from thy nicer sense.Dying, his lord he owned, viewed him all o'erWith eager eyes, then closed those eyes, well pleased.Of lesser ills the Muse declines to sing,Nor stoops so low; of these each groom can tellThe proper remedy. But oh! what care!What prudence can prevent madness, the worstOf maladies? Terrific pest! that blasts_190The huntsman's hopes, and desolation spreadsThrough all the unpeopled kennel unrestrained.More fatal than the envenomed viper's bite;Or that Apulian[10] spider's poisonous sting,Healed by the pleasing antidote of sounds.When Sirius reigns, and the sun's parching beamsBake the dry gaping surface, visit thouEach even and morn, with quick observant eye,Thy panting pack. If in dark sullen mood,The gloating hound refuse his wonted meal,_200Retiring to some close, obscure retreat,Gloomy, disconsolate: with speed removeThe poor infectious wretch, and in strong chainsBind him suspected. Thus that dire diseaseWhich art can't cure, wise caution may prevent.But this neglected, soon expect a change,A dismal change, confusion, frenzy, death.Or in some dark recess the senseless bruteSits sadly pining: deep melancholy,And black despair, upon his clouded brow_210Hang lowering; from his half-opening jawsThe clammy venom, and infectious froth,Distilling fall; and from his lungs inflamed,Malignant vapours taint the ambient air,Breathing perdition: his dim eyes are glazed,He droops his pensive head, his trembling limbsNo more support his weight; abject he lies,Dumb, spiritless, benumbed; till death at lastGracious attends, and kindly brings relief.Or if outrageous grown, behold alas!_220A yet more dreadful scene; his glaring eyeRedden with fury, like some angry boarChurning he foams; and on his back erectHis pointed bristles rise; his tail incurvedHe drops, and with harsh broken bowlings rendsThe poison-tainted air, with rough hoarse voiceIncessant bays; and snuff's the infectious breeze;This way and that he stares aghast, and startsAt his own shade; jealous, as if he deemedThe world his foes. If haply toward the stream_230He cast his roving eye, cold horror chillsHis soul; averse he flies, trembling, appalled.Now frantic to the kennel's utmost vergeRaving he runs, and deals destruction round.The pack fly diverse; for whate'er he meetsVengeful he bites, and every bite is death.If now perchance through the weak fence escaped,Far up the wind he roves, with open mouthInhales the cooling breeze, nor man, nor beastHe spares, implacable. The hunter-horse,_240Once kind associate of his sylvan toils,(Who haply now without the kennel's moundCrops the rank mead, and listening hears with joyThe cheering cry, that morn and eve salutesHis raptured sense) a wretched victim falls.Unhappy quadruped! no more, alas!Shall thy fond master with his voice applaudThy gentleness, thy speed; or with his handStroke thy soft dappled sides, as he each dayVisits thy stall, well pleased; no more shalt thou_250With sprightly neighings, to the winding hornAnd the loud opening pack in concert joined,Glad his proud heart. For oh! the secret woundRankling inflames, he bites the ground and dies.Hence to the village with pernicious hasteBaleful he bends his course: the village fliesAlarmed; the tender mother in her armsHugs close the trembling babe; the doors are barred,And flying curs, by native instinct taught,Shun the contagious bane; the rustic bands_260Hurry to arms, the rude militia seizeWhate'er at hand they find; clubs, forks, or gunsFrom every quarter charge the furious foe,In wild disorder, and uncouth array:Till now with wounds on wounds oppressed and gored,At one short poisonous gasp he breathes his last.Hence to the kennel, Muse, return, and viewWith heavy heart that hospital of woe:Where Horror stalks at large; insatiate DeathSits growling o'er his prey: each hour presents_270A different scene of ruin and distress.How busy art thou, Fate! and how severeThy pointed wrath! the dying and the deadPromiscuous lie; o'er these the living fightIn one eternal broil; not conscious why,Nor yet with whom. So drunkards in their cups,Spare not their friends, while senseless squabble reigns.Huntsman! it much behoves thee to avoidThe perilous debate! Ah! rouse up allThy vigilance, and tread the treacherous ground_280With careful step. Thy fires unquenched preserve,As erst the vestal flame; the pointed steelIn the hot embers hide; and if surprisedThou feel'st the deadly bite, quick urge it homeInto the recent sore, and cauteriseThe wound; spare not thy flesh, nor dread the event:Vulcan shall save when Aesculapius fails.Here, should the knowing Muse recount the meansTo stop this growing plague. And here, alas!Each hand presents a sovereign cure, and boasts_290Infallibility, but boasts in vain.On this depend, each to his separate seatConfine, in fetters bound; give each his messApart, his range in open air; and thenIf deadly symptoms to thy grief appear,Devote the wretch, and let him greatly fall,A generous victim for the public weal.Sing, philosophic Muse, the dire effectsOf this contagious bite on hapless man.The rustic swains, by long tradition taught_300Of leeches old, as soon as they perceiveThe bite impressed, to the sea-coasts repair.Plunged in the briny flood, the unhappy youthNow journeys home secure; but soon shall wishThe seas as yet had covered him beneathThe foaming surge, full many a fathom deep.A fate more dismal, and superior illsHang o'er his head devoted. When the moon,Closing her monthly round, returns againTo glad the night; or when full orbed she shines_310High in the vault of heaven; the lurking pestBegins the dire assault. The poisonous foam,Through the deep wound instilled with hostile rage,And all its fiery particles saline,Invades the arterial fluid; whose red wavesTempestuous heave, and their cohesion broke,Fermenting boil; intestine war ensues,And order to confusion turns embroiled.Now the distended vessels scarce containThe wild uproar, but press each weaker part,_320Unable to resist: the tender brainAnd stomach suffer most; convulsions shakeHis trembling nerves, and wandering pungent painsPinch sore the sleepless wretch; his fluttering pulseOft intermits; pensive, and sad, he mournsHis cruel fate, and to his weeping friendsLaments in vain; to hasty anger prone,Resents each slight offence, walks with quick step,And wildly stares; at last with boundless swayThe tyrant frenzy reigns. For as the dog_330(Whose fatal bite conveyed the infectious bane)Raving he foams, and howls, and barks, and bites.Like agitations in his boiling bloodPresent like species to his troubled mind;His nature, and his actions all canine.So as (old Homer sung) the associates wildOf wandering Ithacus, by Circe's charmsTo swine transformed, ran grunting through the groves.Dreadful example to a wicked world!See there distressed he lies! parched up with thirst,_340But dares not drink. Till now at last his soulTrembling escapes, her noisome dungeon leaves,And to some purer region wings away.One labour yet remains, celestial Maid!Another element demands thy song.No more o'er craggy steeps, through coverts thickWith pointed thorn, and briers intricate,Urge on with horn and voice the painful packBut skim with wanton wing the irriguous vale,Where winding streams amid the flowery meads_350Perpetual glide along; and undermineThe caverned banks, by the tenacious rootsOf hoary willows arched; gloomy retreatOf the bright scaly kind; where they at will,On the green watery reed their pasture graze,Suck the moist soil, or slumber at their ease,Rocked by the restless brook, that draws aslopeIts humid train, and laves their dark abodes.Where rages not oppression? Where, alas!Is innocence secure? Rapine and spoil_360Haunt even the lowest deeps; seas have their sharks,Rivers and ponds inclose the ravenous pike;He in his turn becomes a prey; on himThe amphibious otter feasts. Just is his fateDeserved; but tyrants know no bounds; nor spearsThat bristle on his back, defend the perchFrom his wide greedy jaws; nor burnished mailThe yellow carp; nor all his arts can saveThe insinuating eel, that hides his headBeneath the slimy mud; nor yet escapes_370The crimson-spotted trout, the river's pride,And beauty of the stream. Without remorse,This midnight pillager ranging around,Insatiate swallows all. The owner mournsThe unpeopled rivulet, and gladly hearsThe huntsman's early call, and sees with joyThe jovial crew, that march upon its banksIn gay parade, with bearded lances armed.This subtle spoiler of the beaver kind,Far off, perhaps, where ancient alders shadeThe deep still pool; within some hollow trunk_380Contrives his wicker couch: whence he surveysHis long purlieu, lord of the stream, and allThe finny shoals his own. But you, brave youths,Dispute the felon's claim; try every root,And every reedy bank; encourage allThe busy-spreading pack, that fearless plungeInto the flood, and cross the rapid stream.Bid rocks and caves, and each resounding shore,Proclaim your bold defiance; loudly raise_390Each cheering voice, till distant hills repeatThe triumphs of the vale. On the soft sandSee there his seal impressed! and on that bankBehold the glittering spoils, half-eaten fish,Scales, fins, and bones, the leavings of his feast.Ah! on that yielding sag-bed, see, once moreHis seal I view. O'er yon dank rushy marshThe sly goose-footed prowler bends his course,And seeks the distant shallows. Huntsman, bringThy eager pack; and trail him to his couch._400Hark! the loud peal begins, the clamorous joy,The gallant chiding, loads the trembling air.Ye Naiads fair, who o'er these floods preside,Raise up your dripping heads above the wave,And hear our melody. The harmonious notesFloat with the stream; and every winding creekAnd hollow rock, that o'er the dimpling floodNods pendant; still improve from shore to shoreOur sweet reiterated joys. What shouts!What clamour loud! What gay heart-cheering sounds_410Urge through, the breathing brass their mazy way!Nor choirs of Tritons glad with sprightlier strainsThe dancing billows, when proud Neptune ridesIn triumph o'er the deep. How greedilyThey snuff the fishy steam, that to each bladeRank-scenting clings! See! how the morning dewsThey sweep, that from their feet besprinkling dropDispersed, and leave a track oblique behind.Now on firm land they range; then in the floodThey plunge tumultuous; or through reedy pools_420Rustling they work their way: no holt escapesTheir curious search. With quick sensation nowThe fuming vapour stings; flutter their hearts,And joy redoubled bursts from every mouthIn louder symphonies. Yon hollow trunk,That with its hoary head incurved, salutesThe passing wave, must be the tyrant's fort,And dread abode. How these impatient climb,While others at the root incessant bay:They put him down. See, there he dives along!_430The ascending bubbles mark his gloomy way.Quick fix the nets, and cut off his retreatInto the sheltering deeps. Ah, there he vents!The pack lunge headlong, and protended spearsMenace destruction: while the troubled surgeIndignant foams, and all the scaly kindAffrighted, hide their heads. Wild tumult reigns,And loud uproar. Ah, there once more he vents!See, that bold hound has seized him; down they sink,Together lost: but soon shall he repent_440His rash assault. See there escaped, he fliesHalf-drowned, and clambers up the slippery bankWith ouze and blood distained. Of all the brutes,Whether by Nature formed, or by long use,This artful diver best can bear the wantOf vital air. Unequal is the fight,Beneath the whelming element. Yet thereHe lives not long; but respiration needsAt proper intervals. Again he vents;Again the crowd attack. That spear has pierced_450His neck; the crimson waves confess the wound.Fixed is the bearded lance, unwelcome guest,Where'er he flies; with him it sinks beneath,With him it mounts; sure guide to every foe.Inly he groans; nor can his tender woundBear the cold stream. Lo! to yon sedgy bankHe creeps disconsolate; his numerous foesSurround him, hounds and men. Pierced through and through,On pointed spears they lift him high in air;Wriggling he hangs, and grins, and bites in vain:_460Bid the loud horns, in gaily warbling strains,Proclaim the felon's fate; he dies, he dies.Rejoice, ye scaly tribes, and leaping danceAbove the wave, in sign of libertyRestored; the cruel tyrant is no more.Rejoice, secure and blessed; did not as yetRemain, some of your own rapacious kind;And man, fierce man, with all his various wiles.O happy, if ye knew your happy state,Ye rangers of the fields! whom Nature boon_470Cheers with her smiles, and every elementConspires to bless. What, if no heroes frownFrom marble pedestals; nor Raphael's works,Nor Titian's lively tints, adorn our walls?Yet these the meanest of us may behold;And at another's cost may feast at willOur wondering eyes; what can the owner more?But vain, alas! is wealth, not graced with power.The flowery landscape, and the gilded dome,And vistas opening to the wearied eye,_480Through all his wide domain; the planted grove,The shrubby wilderness with its gay choirOf warbling birds, can't lull to soft reposeThe ambitious wretch, whose discontented soulIs harrowed day and night; he mourns, he pines,Until his prince's favour makes him great.See, there he comes, the exalted idol comes!The circle's formed, and all his fawning slavesDevoutly bow to earth; from every mouthThe nauseous flattery flows, which he returns_490With promises, that die as soon as born.Vile intercourse! where virtue has no place.Frown but the monarch; all his glories fade;He mingles with the throng, outcast, undone,The pageant of a day; without one friendTo soothe his tortured mind; all, all are fled.For though they basked in his meridian ray,The insects vanish, as his beams decline.Not such our friends; for here no dark design,No wicked interest bribes the venal heart;_500But inclination to our bosom leads,And weds them there for life; our social cupsSmile, as we smile; open, and unreserved.We speak our inmost souls; good humour, mirth,Soft complaisance, and wit from malice free,Smoothe every brow, and glow on every cheek.O happiness sincere! what wretch would groanBeneath the galling load of power, or walkUpon the slippery pavements of the great,Who thus could reign, unenvied and secure?_510Ye guardian powers who make mankind your care,Give me to know wise Nature's hidden depths,Trace each mysterious cause, with judgment readThe expanded volume, and submiss adoreThat great creative Will, who at a wordSpoke forth the wondrous scene. But if my soulTo this gross clay confined, flutters on earthWith less ambitious wing; unskilled to rangeFrom orb to orb, where Newton leads the way;And view with piercing eyes, the grand machine,_520Worlds above worlds; subservient to his voice,Who veiled in clouded majesty, aloneGives light to all; bids the great system move,And changeful seasons in their turns advance,Unmoved, unchanged himself; yet this at leastGrant me propitious, an inglorious life,Calm and serene, nor lost in false pursuitsOf wealth or honours; but enough to raiseMy drooping friends, preventing modest wantThat dares not ask. And if to crown my joys,_530Ye grant me health, that, ruddy in my cheeks,Blooms in my life's decline; fields, woods, and streams,Each towering hill, each humble vale below,Shall hear my cheering voice, my hounds shall wakeThe lazy morn, and glad the horizon round.
[Footnote 1: In republishing only the "Chase" of Somerville and "the Fables" of Gay, we have acted on the principle of selecting the best, and the most characteristic, in our age, perhaps the only readable specimen of either poet.]
[Footnote 2: 'Great Prince:' Prince Frederick. Our readers will remember the humorous epitaph on him, in edifying contrast to Somerville's praise:—
'Here lies Fred,Who was alive, and is dead:If it had been his father,I'd much rather;Had it been his mother,Better than another;Were it his sister,Nobody would have miss'd her;Were it the whole generation,The better for the nation.But since it's only Fred,There's no more to be said,But that he was alive, and is dead.'
We quote this from recollection of Thackeray's recitation, but think it pretty accurate.]
[Footnote 3: 'Neustria:' Normandy.]
[Footnote 4: 'Fountain of light,' &c. Scott as well as Somerville loved to write in brilliant sunshine.]
[Footnote 6: 'Talbot kind:' Derived, we think, from the famous John Talbot, the first Earl of Shrewsbury, who employed this species of hound against the Irish rebels.]
[Footnote 7: 'Aurengzebe:' in 1659, seized the throne of India, after murdering his relatives, but became a good, wise, and brave emperor.]
[Footnote 8: 'Ammon's son:' Alexander the Great.]
[Footnote 9: 'Blooming youth:' Fred again.]
[Footnote 10: 'Apulia:' now Puglia, the south-eastern part of Italy.]