BOOK ITHE CHASE v. 189-213.
But here, with watchful and observant eye,Attend their frolicks, which too often endIn bloody broils and death. High o’er thy headWave thy resounding whip, and, with a voiceFierce-menacing, o’er-rule the stern debate,And quench their kindling rage; for oft, in sportBegun, combat ensues; growling they snarl,Then on their haunches rear’d, rampant they seizeEach other’s throats, with teeth and claws, in goreBesmear’d, they wound, they tear, till on the ground,Panting, half dead, the conquering champion lies:Then sudden all the base ignoble crowd,Loud-clamouring, seize the helpless worried wretch,And, thirsting for his blood, drag different waysHis mangled carcase on the ensanguined plain.O breasts of pity void! to oppress the weak,To point your vengeance at the friendless head,And, with one mutual cry, insult the fall’n!Emblem too just of man’s degenerate race.Others apart, by native instinct led,Knowing instructor! ’mong the ranker grassCull each salubrious plant, with bitter juiceConcoctive stored, and potent to allayEach vicious ferment. Thus the hand divineOf Providence, beneficent and kind
But here, with watchful and observant eye,Attend their frolicks, which too often endIn bloody broils and death. High o’er thy headWave thy resounding whip, and, with a voiceFierce-menacing, o’er-rule the stern debate,And quench their kindling rage; for oft, in sportBegun, combat ensues; growling they snarl,Then on their haunches rear’d, rampant they seizeEach other’s throats, with teeth and claws, in goreBesmear’d, they wound, they tear, till on the ground,Panting, half dead, the conquering champion lies:Then sudden all the base ignoble crowd,Loud-clamouring, seize the helpless worried wretch,And, thirsting for his blood, drag different waysHis mangled carcase on the ensanguined plain.O breasts of pity void! to oppress the weak,To point your vengeance at the friendless head,And, with one mutual cry, insult the fall’n!Emblem too just of man’s degenerate race.Others apart, by native instinct led,Knowing instructor! ’mong the ranker grassCull each salubrious plant, with bitter juiceConcoctive stored, and potent to allayEach vicious ferment. Thus the hand divineOf Providence, beneficent and kind
But here, with watchful and observant eye,Attend their frolicks, which too often endIn bloody broils and death. High o’er thy headWave thy resounding whip, and, with a voiceFierce-menacing, o’er-rule the stern debate,And quench their kindling rage; for oft, in sportBegun, combat ensues; growling they snarl,Then on their haunches rear’d, rampant they seizeEach other’s throats, with teeth and claws, in goreBesmear’d, they wound, they tear, till on the ground,Panting, half dead, the conquering champion lies:Then sudden all the base ignoble crowd,Loud-clamouring, seize the helpless worried wretch,And, thirsting for his blood, drag different waysHis mangled carcase on the ensanguined plain.O breasts of pity void! to oppress the weak,To point your vengeance at the friendless head,And, with one mutual cry, insult the fall’n!Emblem too just of man’s degenerate race.Others apart, by native instinct led,Knowing instructor! ’mong the ranker grassCull each salubrious plant, with bitter juiceConcoctive stored, and potent to allayEach vicious ferment. Thus the hand divineOf Providence, beneficent and kind
BOOK ITHE CHASE v. 213-236.
To all his creatures, for the brutes prescribesA ready remedy, and is himselfTheir great physician! Now grown stiff with age,And many a painful chase, the wise old hound,Regardless of the frolick pack, attendsHis master’s side, or slumbers, at his ease,Beneath the bending shade; there, many a ringRuns o’er in dreams; now on the doubtful foilPuzzles perplex’d, or doubles intricateCautious unfolds; then, wing’d with all his speed,Bounds o’er the lawn to seize his panting prey,And in imperfect whimp’ring speaks his joy.A different hound, for every diff’rent chase,Select with judgment; nor the timorous hareO’ermatch’d destroy, but leave that vile offenceTo the mean, murd’rous, coursing crew, intentOn blood and spoil. Oh blast their hopes, just Heaven!And all their painful drudgeries repayWith disappointment, and severe remorse.But husband thou thy pleasures, and give scopeTo all her subtle play: by nature led,A thousand shifts she tries; to unravel theseThe industrious beagle twists his waving tail,Through all her labyrinths pursues, and rings
To all his creatures, for the brutes prescribesA ready remedy, and is himselfTheir great physician! Now grown stiff with age,And many a painful chase, the wise old hound,Regardless of the frolick pack, attendsHis master’s side, or slumbers, at his ease,Beneath the bending shade; there, many a ringRuns o’er in dreams; now on the doubtful foilPuzzles perplex’d, or doubles intricateCautious unfolds; then, wing’d with all his speed,Bounds o’er the lawn to seize his panting prey,And in imperfect whimp’ring speaks his joy.A different hound, for every diff’rent chase,Select with judgment; nor the timorous hareO’ermatch’d destroy, but leave that vile offenceTo the mean, murd’rous, coursing crew, intentOn blood and spoil. Oh blast their hopes, just Heaven!And all their painful drudgeries repayWith disappointment, and severe remorse.But husband thou thy pleasures, and give scopeTo all her subtle play: by nature led,A thousand shifts she tries; to unravel theseThe industrious beagle twists his waving tail,Through all her labyrinths pursues, and rings
To all his creatures, for the brutes prescribesA ready remedy, and is himselfTheir great physician! Now grown stiff with age,And many a painful chase, the wise old hound,Regardless of the frolick pack, attendsHis master’s side, or slumbers, at his ease,Beneath the bending shade; there, many a ringRuns o’er in dreams; now on the doubtful foilPuzzles perplex’d, or doubles intricateCautious unfolds; then, wing’d with all his speed,Bounds o’er the lawn to seize his panting prey,And in imperfect whimp’ring speaks his joy.A different hound, for every diff’rent chase,Select with judgment; nor the timorous hareO’ermatch’d destroy, but leave that vile offenceTo the mean, murd’rous, coursing crew, intentOn blood and spoil. Oh blast their hopes, just Heaven!And all their painful drudgeries repayWith disappointment, and severe remorse.But husband thou thy pleasures, and give scopeTo all her subtle play: by nature led,A thousand shifts she tries; to unravel theseThe industrious beagle twists his waving tail,Through all her labyrinths pursues, and rings
BOOK ITHE CHASE v. 237-260.
Her doleful knell. See there, with countenance blithe,And with a courtly grin, the fawning houndSalutes thee, cowering, his wide opening noseUpward he curls, and his large sloe-black eyesMelt in soft blandishments, and humble joy;His glossy skin, or yellow-pied, or blue,In lights or shades by nature’s pencil drawn,Reflects the various tints; his ears and legs,Fleckt here and there, in gay enamell’d prideRival the speckled pard; his rush-grown tailO’er his broad back bends in ample arch;On shoulders clean, upright and firm he stands;His round cat foot, straight hams, and wide-spread thighs,And his low-dropping chest, confess his speed,His strength, his wind, or on the steepy hill,Or far-extended plain; in every partSo well proportion’d, that the nicer skillOf Phidias himself can’t blame thy choice.Of such compose thy pack: but here a meanObserve; nor the large hound prefer, of sizeGigantick; he in the thick-woven covertPainfully tugs, or in the thorny brakeTorn and embarrass’d, bleeds: but if too small,The pigmy brood in every furrow swims;
Her doleful knell. See there, with countenance blithe,And with a courtly grin, the fawning houndSalutes thee, cowering, his wide opening noseUpward he curls, and his large sloe-black eyesMelt in soft blandishments, and humble joy;His glossy skin, or yellow-pied, or blue,In lights or shades by nature’s pencil drawn,Reflects the various tints; his ears and legs,Fleckt here and there, in gay enamell’d prideRival the speckled pard; his rush-grown tailO’er his broad back bends in ample arch;On shoulders clean, upright and firm he stands;His round cat foot, straight hams, and wide-spread thighs,And his low-dropping chest, confess his speed,His strength, his wind, or on the steepy hill,Or far-extended plain; in every partSo well proportion’d, that the nicer skillOf Phidias himself can’t blame thy choice.Of such compose thy pack: but here a meanObserve; nor the large hound prefer, of sizeGigantick; he in the thick-woven covertPainfully tugs, or in the thorny brakeTorn and embarrass’d, bleeds: but if too small,The pigmy brood in every furrow swims;
Her doleful knell. See there, with countenance blithe,And with a courtly grin, the fawning houndSalutes thee, cowering, his wide opening noseUpward he curls, and his large sloe-black eyesMelt in soft blandishments, and humble joy;His glossy skin, or yellow-pied, or blue,In lights or shades by nature’s pencil drawn,Reflects the various tints; his ears and legs,Fleckt here and there, in gay enamell’d prideRival the speckled pard; his rush-grown tailO’er his broad back bends in ample arch;On shoulders clean, upright and firm he stands;His round cat foot, straight hams, and wide-spread thighs,And his low-dropping chest, confess his speed,His strength, his wind, or on the steepy hill,Or far-extended plain; in every partSo well proportion’d, that the nicer skillOf Phidias himself can’t blame thy choice.Of such compose thy pack: but here a meanObserve; nor the large hound prefer, of sizeGigantick; he in the thick-woven covertPainfully tugs, or in the thorny brakeTorn and embarrass’d, bleeds: but if too small,The pigmy brood in every furrow swims;
BOOK ITHE CHASE v. 261-285.
Moil’d in the clogging clay, panting they lagBehind inglorious; or else shivering they creep,Benumb’d and faint, beneath the shelt’ring thorn.For hounds of middle size, active and strong,Will better answer all thy various ends,And crown thy pleasing labours with success.As some brave captain, curious and exact,By his fix’d standard forms, in equal ranks,His gay battalion, as one man they move,Step after step, their size the same, their armsFar gleaming, dart the same united blaze:Reviewing generals his merit own;How regular! how just! and all his caresAre well repaid, if mighty George approve.So model thou thy pack, if honour touchThy generous soul, and the world’s just applause.But above all take heed, nor mix thy houndsOf diff’rent kinds; discordant sounds shall grateThy ears offended, and a lagging lineOf babbling curs disgrace thy broken pack.But if the amphibious otter be thy chase,Or stately stag, that o’er the woodland reigns;Or if the harmonious thunder of the fieldDelight thy ravish’d ears; the deep-flew’d houndBreed up with care, strong, heavy, slow, but sure,
Moil’d in the clogging clay, panting they lagBehind inglorious; or else shivering they creep,Benumb’d and faint, beneath the shelt’ring thorn.For hounds of middle size, active and strong,Will better answer all thy various ends,And crown thy pleasing labours with success.As some brave captain, curious and exact,By his fix’d standard forms, in equal ranks,His gay battalion, as one man they move,Step after step, their size the same, their armsFar gleaming, dart the same united blaze:Reviewing generals his merit own;How regular! how just! and all his caresAre well repaid, if mighty George approve.So model thou thy pack, if honour touchThy generous soul, and the world’s just applause.But above all take heed, nor mix thy houndsOf diff’rent kinds; discordant sounds shall grateThy ears offended, and a lagging lineOf babbling curs disgrace thy broken pack.But if the amphibious otter be thy chase,Or stately stag, that o’er the woodland reigns;Or if the harmonious thunder of the fieldDelight thy ravish’d ears; the deep-flew’d houndBreed up with care, strong, heavy, slow, but sure,
Moil’d in the clogging clay, panting they lagBehind inglorious; or else shivering they creep,Benumb’d and faint, beneath the shelt’ring thorn.For hounds of middle size, active and strong,Will better answer all thy various ends,And crown thy pleasing labours with success.As some brave captain, curious and exact,By his fix’d standard forms, in equal ranks,His gay battalion, as one man they move,Step after step, their size the same, their armsFar gleaming, dart the same united blaze:Reviewing generals his merit own;How regular! how just! and all his caresAre well repaid, if mighty George approve.So model thou thy pack, if honour touchThy generous soul, and the world’s just applause.But above all take heed, nor mix thy houndsOf diff’rent kinds; discordant sounds shall grateThy ears offended, and a lagging lineOf babbling curs disgrace thy broken pack.But if the amphibious otter be thy chase,Or stately stag, that o’er the woodland reigns;Or if the harmonious thunder of the fieldDelight thy ravish’d ears; the deep-flew’d houndBreed up with care, strong, heavy, slow, but sure,
BOOK ITHE CHASE v. 286-310.
Whose ears, down-hanging from his thick round head,Shall sweep the morning dew; whose clanging voiceAwake the mountain echo in her cell,And shake the forests: the bold Talbot kindOf these the prime, as white as Alpine snows;And great their use of old. Upon the banksOf Tweed, slow-winding through the vale, the seatOf war and rapine once, ere Britons knewThe sweets of peace, or Anna’s dread commandsTo lasting leagues the haughty rivals awed,There dwelt a pilfering race; well train’d and skill’dIn all the mysteries of theft, the spoilTheir only substance, feuds and war their sport:Not more expert in every fraudful artThe arch felon was of old, who by the tailDrew back his lowing prize: in vain his wiles,In vain the shelter of the covering rock,In vain the sooty cloud, and ruddy flames,That issued from his mouth; for soon he paidHis forfeit life; a debt how justly dueTo wrong’d Alcides, and avenging Heaven!Veil’d in the shades of night, they ford the stream,Then prowling far and near, whate’er they seizeBecomes their prey; nor flocks nor herds are safe,Nor stalls protect the steer, nor strong-barr’d doors
Whose ears, down-hanging from his thick round head,Shall sweep the morning dew; whose clanging voiceAwake the mountain echo in her cell,And shake the forests: the bold Talbot kindOf these the prime, as white as Alpine snows;And great their use of old. Upon the banksOf Tweed, slow-winding through the vale, the seatOf war and rapine once, ere Britons knewThe sweets of peace, or Anna’s dread commandsTo lasting leagues the haughty rivals awed,There dwelt a pilfering race; well train’d and skill’dIn all the mysteries of theft, the spoilTheir only substance, feuds and war their sport:Not more expert in every fraudful artThe arch felon was of old, who by the tailDrew back his lowing prize: in vain his wiles,In vain the shelter of the covering rock,In vain the sooty cloud, and ruddy flames,That issued from his mouth; for soon he paidHis forfeit life; a debt how justly dueTo wrong’d Alcides, and avenging Heaven!Veil’d in the shades of night, they ford the stream,Then prowling far and near, whate’er they seizeBecomes their prey; nor flocks nor herds are safe,Nor stalls protect the steer, nor strong-barr’d doors
Whose ears, down-hanging from his thick round head,Shall sweep the morning dew; whose clanging voiceAwake the mountain echo in her cell,And shake the forests: the bold Talbot kindOf these the prime, as white as Alpine snows;And great their use of old. Upon the banksOf Tweed, slow-winding through the vale, the seatOf war and rapine once, ere Britons knewThe sweets of peace, or Anna’s dread commandsTo lasting leagues the haughty rivals awed,There dwelt a pilfering race; well train’d and skill’dIn all the mysteries of theft, the spoilTheir only substance, feuds and war their sport:Not more expert in every fraudful artThe arch felon was of old, who by the tailDrew back his lowing prize: in vain his wiles,In vain the shelter of the covering rock,In vain the sooty cloud, and ruddy flames,That issued from his mouth; for soon he paidHis forfeit life; a debt how justly dueTo wrong’d Alcides, and avenging Heaven!Veil’d in the shades of night, they ford the stream,Then prowling far and near, whate’er they seizeBecomes their prey; nor flocks nor herds are safe,Nor stalls protect the steer, nor strong-barr’d doors
BOOK ITHE CHASE v. 311-335.
Secure the favourite horse. Soon as the mornReveals his wrongs, with ghastly visage wan,The plunder’d owner stands, and from his lipsA thousand thronging curses burst their way:He calls his stout allies, and in a lineHis faithful hound he leads; then, with a voiceThat utters loud his rage, attentive cheers:Soon the sagacious brute, his curling tailFlourish’d in air, low-bending plies aroundHis busy nose, the steaming vapour snuffsInquisitive, nor leaves one turf untried;Till, conscious of the recent stains, his heartBeats quick; his snuffling nose, his active tail,Attest his joy; then, with deep-opening mouth,That makes the welkin tremble, he proclaimsThe audacious felon; foot by foot he marksHis winding way, while all the listening crowdApplaud his reasonings. O’er the watery ford,Dry sandy heaths, and stony barren hills,O’er beaten paths, with men and beasts distain’d,Unerring he pursues; till at the cotArrived, and seizing by his guilty throatThe caitiff vile, redeems the captive prey:So exquisitely delicate his sense!Should some more curious sportsman here inquire,
Secure the favourite horse. Soon as the mornReveals his wrongs, with ghastly visage wan,The plunder’d owner stands, and from his lipsA thousand thronging curses burst their way:He calls his stout allies, and in a lineHis faithful hound he leads; then, with a voiceThat utters loud his rage, attentive cheers:Soon the sagacious brute, his curling tailFlourish’d in air, low-bending plies aroundHis busy nose, the steaming vapour snuffsInquisitive, nor leaves one turf untried;Till, conscious of the recent stains, his heartBeats quick; his snuffling nose, his active tail,Attest his joy; then, with deep-opening mouth,That makes the welkin tremble, he proclaimsThe audacious felon; foot by foot he marksHis winding way, while all the listening crowdApplaud his reasonings. O’er the watery ford,Dry sandy heaths, and stony barren hills,O’er beaten paths, with men and beasts distain’d,Unerring he pursues; till at the cotArrived, and seizing by his guilty throatThe caitiff vile, redeems the captive prey:So exquisitely delicate his sense!Should some more curious sportsman here inquire,
Secure the favourite horse. Soon as the mornReveals his wrongs, with ghastly visage wan,The plunder’d owner stands, and from his lipsA thousand thronging curses burst their way:He calls his stout allies, and in a lineHis faithful hound he leads; then, with a voiceThat utters loud his rage, attentive cheers:Soon the sagacious brute, his curling tailFlourish’d in air, low-bending plies aroundHis busy nose, the steaming vapour snuffsInquisitive, nor leaves one turf untried;Till, conscious of the recent stains, his heartBeats quick; his snuffling nose, his active tail,Attest his joy; then, with deep-opening mouth,That makes the welkin tremble, he proclaimsThe audacious felon; foot by foot he marksHis winding way, while all the listening crowdApplaud his reasonings. O’er the watery ford,Dry sandy heaths, and stony barren hills,O’er beaten paths, with men and beasts distain’d,Unerring he pursues; till at the cotArrived, and seizing by his guilty throatThe caitiff vile, redeems the captive prey:So exquisitely delicate his sense!Should some more curious sportsman here inquire,
BOOK ITHE CHASE v. 336-360.
Whence this sagacity, this wond’rous power,Of tracing step by step, or man or brute;What guide invisible points out their way,O’er the dank marsh, bleak hill, and sandy plain?The courteous Muse shall the dark cause reveal.The blood that from the heart incessant rollsIn many a crimson tide, then here and there,In smaller rills disparted, as it flows,Propell’d, the serous particles evadeThrough the open pores, and, with the ambient airEntangling, mix: as fuming vapours rise,And hang upon the gently-purling brook,There by the incumbent atmosphere compress’d.The panting chase grows warmer as he flies,And through the net-work of the skin perspires;Leaves a long streaming trail behind, which, byThe cooler air condensed, remains, unlessBy some rude storm dispersed, or rarefiedBy the meridian sun’s intenser heat:To every shrub the warm effluvia cling,Hang on the grass, impregnate earth and skies:With nostrils opening wide, o’er hill, o’er dale,The vigorous hounds pursue, with every breathInhale their grateful steam; quick pleasures stingTheir tingling nerves, while they their thanks repay,
Whence this sagacity, this wond’rous power,Of tracing step by step, or man or brute;What guide invisible points out their way,O’er the dank marsh, bleak hill, and sandy plain?The courteous Muse shall the dark cause reveal.The blood that from the heart incessant rollsIn many a crimson tide, then here and there,In smaller rills disparted, as it flows,Propell’d, the serous particles evadeThrough the open pores, and, with the ambient airEntangling, mix: as fuming vapours rise,And hang upon the gently-purling brook,There by the incumbent atmosphere compress’d.The panting chase grows warmer as he flies,And through the net-work of the skin perspires;Leaves a long streaming trail behind, which, byThe cooler air condensed, remains, unlessBy some rude storm dispersed, or rarefiedBy the meridian sun’s intenser heat:To every shrub the warm effluvia cling,Hang on the grass, impregnate earth and skies:With nostrils opening wide, o’er hill, o’er dale,The vigorous hounds pursue, with every breathInhale their grateful steam; quick pleasures stingTheir tingling nerves, while they their thanks repay,
Whence this sagacity, this wond’rous power,Of tracing step by step, or man or brute;What guide invisible points out their way,O’er the dank marsh, bleak hill, and sandy plain?The courteous Muse shall the dark cause reveal.The blood that from the heart incessant rollsIn many a crimson tide, then here and there,In smaller rills disparted, as it flows,Propell’d, the serous particles evadeThrough the open pores, and, with the ambient airEntangling, mix: as fuming vapours rise,And hang upon the gently-purling brook,There by the incumbent atmosphere compress’d.The panting chase grows warmer as he flies,And through the net-work of the skin perspires;Leaves a long streaming trail behind, which, byThe cooler air condensed, remains, unlessBy some rude storm dispersed, or rarefiedBy the meridian sun’s intenser heat:To every shrub the warm effluvia cling,Hang on the grass, impregnate earth and skies:With nostrils opening wide, o’er hill, o’er dale,The vigorous hounds pursue, with every breathInhale their grateful steam; quick pleasures stingTheir tingling nerves, while they their thanks repay,
BOOK ITHE CHASE v. 361-385.
And in triumphant melody confessThe titillating joy. Thus on the airDepend the hunter’s hopes. When ruddy streaksAt eve, forebode a blust’ring stormy day,Or lowering clouds blacken the mountain’s brow;When nipping frosts, and the keen biting blastsOf the dry parching east menace the trees,With tender blossoms teeming, kindly spareThy sleeping pack, in their warm beds of strawLow-sinking, at their ease; listless they shrinkInto some dark recess, nor hear thy voice,Though oft invoked; or, haply, if thy callRouse up the slumbering tribe, with heavy eyes,Glazed, lifeless, dull, downward they drop their tailsInverted; high on their bent backs erectTheir pointed bristles stare; or ’mong the tuftsOf ranker weeds, each stomach-healing plantCurious they crop, sick, spiritless, forlorn.These inauspicious days, on other caresEmploy thy precious hours; the improving friendWith open arms embrace, and from his lipsGlean science, season’d with good-natured wit.But if the inclement skies and angry JoveForbid the pleasing intercourse, thy booksInvite thy ready hand, each sacred page
And in triumphant melody confessThe titillating joy. Thus on the airDepend the hunter’s hopes. When ruddy streaksAt eve, forebode a blust’ring stormy day,Or lowering clouds blacken the mountain’s brow;When nipping frosts, and the keen biting blastsOf the dry parching east menace the trees,With tender blossoms teeming, kindly spareThy sleeping pack, in their warm beds of strawLow-sinking, at their ease; listless they shrinkInto some dark recess, nor hear thy voice,Though oft invoked; or, haply, if thy callRouse up the slumbering tribe, with heavy eyes,Glazed, lifeless, dull, downward they drop their tailsInverted; high on their bent backs erectTheir pointed bristles stare; or ’mong the tuftsOf ranker weeds, each stomach-healing plantCurious they crop, sick, spiritless, forlorn.These inauspicious days, on other caresEmploy thy precious hours; the improving friendWith open arms embrace, and from his lipsGlean science, season’d with good-natured wit.But if the inclement skies and angry JoveForbid the pleasing intercourse, thy booksInvite thy ready hand, each sacred page
And in triumphant melody confessThe titillating joy. Thus on the airDepend the hunter’s hopes. When ruddy streaksAt eve, forebode a blust’ring stormy day,Or lowering clouds blacken the mountain’s brow;When nipping frosts, and the keen biting blastsOf the dry parching east menace the trees,With tender blossoms teeming, kindly spareThy sleeping pack, in their warm beds of strawLow-sinking, at their ease; listless they shrinkInto some dark recess, nor hear thy voice,Though oft invoked; or, haply, if thy callRouse up the slumbering tribe, with heavy eyes,Glazed, lifeless, dull, downward they drop their tailsInverted; high on their bent backs erectTheir pointed bristles stare; or ’mong the tuftsOf ranker weeds, each stomach-healing plantCurious they crop, sick, spiritless, forlorn.These inauspicious days, on other caresEmploy thy precious hours; the improving friendWith open arms embrace, and from his lipsGlean science, season’d with good-natured wit.But if the inclement skies and angry JoveForbid the pleasing intercourse, thy booksInvite thy ready hand, each sacred page
BOOK ITHE CHASE v. 386-399.
Rich with the wise remarks of heroes old.Converse familiar with the illustrious dead;With great examples of old Greece or RomeEnlarge thy free-born heart; and bless kind Heaven,That Britain yet enjoys dear liberty,That balm of life, that sweetest blessing; cheap,Though purchased with our blood. Well bred, polite,Credit thy calling. See! how mean, how low,The bookless, sauntring youth, proud of the skutThat dignifies his cap, his flourish’d belt,And rusty couples gingling by his side.Be thou of other mould; and know, that suchTransporting pleasures, were by Heaven ordain’dWisdom’s relief, and Virtue’s great reward.
Rich with the wise remarks of heroes old.Converse familiar with the illustrious dead;With great examples of old Greece or RomeEnlarge thy free-born heart; and bless kind Heaven,That Britain yet enjoys dear liberty,That balm of life, that sweetest blessing; cheap,Though purchased with our blood. Well bred, polite,Credit thy calling. See! how mean, how low,The bookless, sauntring youth, proud of the skutThat dignifies his cap, his flourish’d belt,And rusty couples gingling by his side.Be thou of other mould; and know, that suchTransporting pleasures, were by Heaven ordain’dWisdom’s relief, and Virtue’s great reward.
Rich with the wise remarks of heroes old.Converse familiar with the illustrious dead;With great examples of old Greece or RomeEnlarge thy free-born heart; and bless kind Heaven,That Britain yet enjoys dear liberty,That balm of life, that sweetest blessing; cheap,Though purchased with our blood. Well bred, polite,Credit thy calling. See! how mean, how low,The bookless, sauntring youth, proud of the skutThat dignifies his cap, his flourish’d belt,And rusty couples gingling by his side.Be thou of other mould; and know, that suchTransporting pleasures, were by Heaven ordain’dWisdom’s relief, and Virtue’s great reward.
BOOK IIBOOK II
Of the power of instinct in brutes. Two remarkable instances in the hunting of the roebuck, and in the hare going to seat in the morning. Of the variety of seats or forms of the hare, according to the change of the season, weather, or wind. Description of the hare-hunting in all its parts, interspersed with rules to be observed by those who follow that chase. Transition to the Asiatick way of hunting, particularly the magnificent manner of the Great Mogul, and other Tartarian princes, taken from Monsieur Bernier, and the History of Gengis Cawn the Great. Concludes with a short reproof of tyrants and oppressors of mankind.
Norwill it less delight the attentive sage,To observe that instinct, which, unerring, guidesThe brutal race, which mimicks reason’s lore,And oft transcends. Heaven-taught, the roebuck swiftLoiters at ease before the driving pack,And mocks their vain pursuit; nor far he flies,But checks his ardour, till the steaming scent,That freshens on the blade, provokes their rage.Urged to their speed, his weak deluded foes,Soon flag fatigued; strain’d to excess each nerve,Each slacken’d sinew fails; they pant, they foam:Then o’er the lawn he bounds, o’er the high hillsStretches secure, and leaves the scatter’d crowd,To puzzle in the distant vale below.
Norwill it less delight the attentive sage,To observe that instinct, which, unerring, guidesThe brutal race, which mimicks reason’s lore,And oft transcends. Heaven-taught, the roebuck swiftLoiters at ease before the driving pack,And mocks their vain pursuit; nor far he flies,But checks his ardour, till the steaming scent,That freshens on the blade, provokes their rage.Urged to their speed, his weak deluded foes,Soon flag fatigued; strain’d to excess each nerve,Each slacken’d sinew fails; they pant, they foam:Then o’er the lawn he bounds, o’er the high hillsStretches secure, and leaves the scatter’d crowd,To puzzle in the distant vale below.
Norwill it less delight the attentive sage,To observe that instinct, which, unerring, guidesThe brutal race, which mimicks reason’s lore,And oft transcends. Heaven-taught, the roebuck swiftLoiters at ease before the driving pack,And mocks their vain pursuit; nor far he flies,But checks his ardour, till the steaming scent,That freshens on the blade, provokes their rage.Urged to their speed, his weak deluded foes,Soon flag fatigued; strain’d to excess each nerve,Each slacken’d sinew fails; they pant, they foam:Then o’er the lawn he bounds, o’er the high hillsStretches secure, and leaves the scatter’d crowd,To puzzle in the distant vale below.
BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 15-38.
’Tis instinct that directs the jealous hareTo choose her soft abode: with step reversed,She forms the doubling maze; then, ere the mornPeeps through the clouds, leaps to her close recess.As wandering shepherds, on the Arabian plains,No settled residence observe, but shiftTheir moving camp; now, on some cooler hill,With cedars crown’d, court the refreshing breeze;And then, below, where trickling streams distilFrom some penurious source, their thirst allay,And feed their fainting flocks. So the wise haresOft quit their seats, lest some more curious eyeShould mark their haunts, and by dark treacherous wilesPlot their destruction; or, perchance, in hopesOf plenteous forage, near the ranker mead,Or matted blade, wary and close they sit.When spring shines forth, season of love and joy,In the moist marsh, ’mong beds of rushes hid,They cool their boiling blood: when summer sunsBake the cleft earth, to thick wide-waving fieldsOf corn full grown, they lead their helpless young:But when autumnal torrents, and fierce rainsDeluge the vale, in the dry crumbling bankTheir forms they delve, and cautiously avoid
’Tis instinct that directs the jealous hareTo choose her soft abode: with step reversed,She forms the doubling maze; then, ere the mornPeeps through the clouds, leaps to her close recess.As wandering shepherds, on the Arabian plains,No settled residence observe, but shiftTheir moving camp; now, on some cooler hill,With cedars crown’d, court the refreshing breeze;And then, below, where trickling streams distilFrom some penurious source, their thirst allay,And feed their fainting flocks. So the wise haresOft quit their seats, lest some more curious eyeShould mark their haunts, and by dark treacherous wilesPlot their destruction; or, perchance, in hopesOf plenteous forage, near the ranker mead,Or matted blade, wary and close they sit.When spring shines forth, season of love and joy,In the moist marsh, ’mong beds of rushes hid,They cool their boiling blood: when summer sunsBake the cleft earth, to thick wide-waving fieldsOf corn full grown, they lead their helpless young:But when autumnal torrents, and fierce rainsDeluge the vale, in the dry crumbling bankTheir forms they delve, and cautiously avoid
’Tis instinct that directs the jealous hareTo choose her soft abode: with step reversed,She forms the doubling maze; then, ere the mornPeeps through the clouds, leaps to her close recess.As wandering shepherds, on the Arabian plains,No settled residence observe, but shiftTheir moving camp; now, on some cooler hill,With cedars crown’d, court the refreshing breeze;And then, below, where trickling streams distilFrom some penurious source, their thirst allay,And feed their fainting flocks. So the wise haresOft quit their seats, lest some more curious eyeShould mark their haunts, and by dark treacherous wilesPlot their destruction; or, perchance, in hopesOf plenteous forage, near the ranker mead,Or matted blade, wary and close they sit.When spring shines forth, season of love and joy,In the moist marsh, ’mong beds of rushes hid,They cool their boiling blood: when summer sunsBake the cleft earth, to thick wide-waving fieldsOf corn full grown, they lead their helpless young:But when autumnal torrents, and fierce rainsDeluge the vale, in the dry crumbling bankTheir forms they delve, and cautiously avoid
BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 39-63.
The dripping covert; yet when winter’s coldTheir limbs benumbs, thither, with speed return’d,In the long grass they skulk, or, shrinking, creepAmong the wither’d leaves: thus changing still,As fancy prompts them, or as food invites.But every season carefully observed,The inconstant winds, the fickle element,The wise experienced huntsman soon may findHis subtle, various game; nor waste in vainHis tedious hours, till his impatient hounds,With disappointment vex’d, each springing larkBabbling pursue, far scatter’d o’er the fields.Now golden autumn from her open lapHer fragrant bounties showers; the fields are shorn;Inwardly smiling, the proud farmer viewsThe rising pyramids that grace his yard,And counts his large increase; his barns are stored,And groaning staddles bend beneath their load.All now is free as air, and the gay packIn the rough bristly stubbles range, unblamed;No widow’s tears o’erflow, no secret curseSwells in the farmer’s breast, which his pale lipsTrembling conceal, by his fierce landlord awed:But courteous now, he levels every fence,Joins in the common cry, and halloos loud,
The dripping covert; yet when winter’s coldTheir limbs benumbs, thither, with speed return’d,In the long grass they skulk, or, shrinking, creepAmong the wither’d leaves: thus changing still,As fancy prompts them, or as food invites.But every season carefully observed,The inconstant winds, the fickle element,The wise experienced huntsman soon may findHis subtle, various game; nor waste in vainHis tedious hours, till his impatient hounds,With disappointment vex’d, each springing larkBabbling pursue, far scatter’d o’er the fields.Now golden autumn from her open lapHer fragrant bounties showers; the fields are shorn;Inwardly smiling, the proud farmer viewsThe rising pyramids that grace his yard,And counts his large increase; his barns are stored,And groaning staddles bend beneath their load.All now is free as air, and the gay packIn the rough bristly stubbles range, unblamed;No widow’s tears o’erflow, no secret curseSwells in the farmer’s breast, which his pale lipsTrembling conceal, by his fierce landlord awed:But courteous now, he levels every fence,Joins in the common cry, and halloos loud,
The dripping covert; yet when winter’s coldTheir limbs benumbs, thither, with speed return’d,In the long grass they skulk, or, shrinking, creepAmong the wither’d leaves: thus changing still,As fancy prompts them, or as food invites.But every season carefully observed,The inconstant winds, the fickle element,The wise experienced huntsman soon may findHis subtle, various game; nor waste in vainHis tedious hours, till his impatient hounds,With disappointment vex’d, each springing larkBabbling pursue, far scatter’d o’er the fields.Now golden autumn from her open lapHer fragrant bounties showers; the fields are shorn;Inwardly smiling, the proud farmer viewsThe rising pyramids that grace his yard,And counts his large increase; his barns are stored,And groaning staddles bend beneath their load.All now is free as air, and the gay packIn the rough bristly stubbles range, unblamed;No widow’s tears o’erflow, no secret curseSwells in the farmer’s breast, which his pale lipsTrembling conceal, by his fierce landlord awed:But courteous now, he levels every fence,Joins in the common cry, and halloos loud,
BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 64-88.
Charm’d with the rattling thunder of the field.Oh bear me, some kind power invisible,To that extended lawn, where the gay courtView the swift racers, stretching to the goal!Games more renown’d, and a far nobler train,Than proud Elean fields could boast of old.Oh! were a Theban lyre not wanting here,And Pindar’s voice, to do their merit right!Or to those spacious plains, where the strain’d eye,In the wide prospect lost, beholds at lastSarum’s proud spire, that o’er the hills ascends,And pierces through the clouds. Or to thy downs,Fair Cotswold, where the well-breathed beagle climbs,With matchless speed, thy green aspiring brow,And leaves the lagging multitude behind.Hail, gentle dawn! mild blushing goddess, hail!Rejoiced, I see thy purple mantle spreadO’er half the skies, gems pave thy radiant way,And orient pearls from every shrub depend.Farewell, Cleora; here deep sunk in down,Slumber secure, with happy dreams amused,Till grateful steams shall tempt thee to receiveThy early meal, or thy officious maids,The toilet placed, shall urge thee to performThe important work. Me other joys invite,
Charm’d with the rattling thunder of the field.Oh bear me, some kind power invisible,To that extended lawn, where the gay courtView the swift racers, stretching to the goal!Games more renown’d, and a far nobler train,Than proud Elean fields could boast of old.Oh! were a Theban lyre not wanting here,And Pindar’s voice, to do their merit right!Or to those spacious plains, where the strain’d eye,In the wide prospect lost, beholds at lastSarum’s proud spire, that o’er the hills ascends,And pierces through the clouds. Or to thy downs,Fair Cotswold, where the well-breathed beagle climbs,With matchless speed, thy green aspiring brow,And leaves the lagging multitude behind.Hail, gentle dawn! mild blushing goddess, hail!Rejoiced, I see thy purple mantle spreadO’er half the skies, gems pave thy radiant way,And orient pearls from every shrub depend.Farewell, Cleora; here deep sunk in down,Slumber secure, with happy dreams amused,Till grateful steams shall tempt thee to receiveThy early meal, or thy officious maids,The toilet placed, shall urge thee to performThe important work. Me other joys invite,
Charm’d with the rattling thunder of the field.Oh bear me, some kind power invisible,To that extended lawn, where the gay courtView the swift racers, stretching to the goal!Games more renown’d, and a far nobler train,Than proud Elean fields could boast of old.Oh! were a Theban lyre not wanting here,And Pindar’s voice, to do their merit right!Or to those spacious plains, where the strain’d eye,In the wide prospect lost, beholds at lastSarum’s proud spire, that o’er the hills ascends,And pierces through the clouds. Or to thy downs,Fair Cotswold, where the well-breathed beagle climbs,With matchless speed, thy green aspiring brow,And leaves the lagging multitude behind.Hail, gentle dawn! mild blushing goddess, hail!Rejoiced, I see thy purple mantle spreadO’er half the skies, gems pave thy radiant way,And orient pearls from every shrub depend.Farewell, Cleora; here deep sunk in down,Slumber secure, with happy dreams amused,Till grateful steams shall tempt thee to receiveThy early meal, or thy officious maids,The toilet placed, shall urge thee to performThe important work. Me other joys invite,
BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 89-113.
The horn sonorous calls, the pack awaked,Their matins chant, nor brook my long delay.My courser hears their voice; see there, with earsAnd tail erect, neighing, he paws the ground;Fierce rapture kindles in his reddening eyes,And boils in every vein. As captive boys,Cow’d by the ruling rod, and haughty frownsOf pedagogues severe, from their hard tasksIf once dismiss’d, no limits can containThe tumult raised within their little breasts,But give a loose to all their frolick play:So from their kennel rush the joyous pack;A thousand wanton gaieties expressTheir inward ecstasy, their pleasing sportOnce more indulged, and liberty restored.The rising sun, that o’er the horizon peeps,As many colours from their glossy skinsBeaming reflects, as paint the various bow,When April showers descend. Delightful scene!Where all around is gay, men, horses, dogs;And in each smiling countenance appearsFresh blooming health, and universal joy.Huntsman, lead on! Behind, the clustering packSubmiss attend, hear with respect thy whipLoud-clanging, and thy harsher voice obey:
The horn sonorous calls, the pack awaked,Their matins chant, nor brook my long delay.My courser hears their voice; see there, with earsAnd tail erect, neighing, he paws the ground;Fierce rapture kindles in his reddening eyes,And boils in every vein. As captive boys,Cow’d by the ruling rod, and haughty frownsOf pedagogues severe, from their hard tasksIf once dismiss’d, no limits can containThe tumult raised within their little breasts,But give a loose to all their frolick play:So from their kennel rush the joyous pack;A thousand wanton gaieties expressTheir inward ecstasy, their pleasing sportOnce more indulged, and liberty restored.The rising sun, that o’er the horizon peeps,As many colours from their glossy skinsBeaming reflects, as paint the various bow,When April showers descend. Delightful scene!Where all around is gay, men, horses, dogs;And in each smiling countenance appearsFresh blooming health, and universal joy.Huntsman, lead on! Behind, the clustering packSubmiss attend, hear with respect thy whipLoud-clanging, and thy harsher voice obey:
The horn sonorous calls, the pack awaked,Their matins chant, nor brook my long delay.My courser hears their voice; see there, with earsAnd tail erect, neighing, he paws the ground;Fierce rapture kindles in his reddening eyes,And boils in every vein. As captive boys,Cow’d by the ruling rod, and haughty frownsOf pedagogues severe, from their hard tasksIf once dismiss’d, no limits can containThe tumult raised within their little breasts,But give a loose to all their frolick play:So from their kennel rush the joyous pack;A thousand wanton gaieties expressTheir inward ecstasy, their pleasing sportOnce more indulged, and liberty restored.The rising sun, that o’er the horizon peeps,As many colours from their glossy skinsBeaming reflects, as paint the various bow,When April showers descend. Delightful scene!Where all around is gay, men, horses, dogs;And in each smiling countenance appearsFresh blooming health, and universal joy.Huntsman, lead on! Behind, the clustering packSubmiss attend, hear with respect thy whipLoud-clanging, and thy harsher voice obey:
BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 114-138.
Spare not the straggling cur, that wildly roves,But let thy brisk assistant, on his back,Imprint thy just resentments; let each lashBite to the quick, till, howling, he return,And, whining, creep amid the trembling crowd.Here, on this verdant spot, where nature kind,With double blessings crowns the farmer’s hopes;Where flowers autumnal spring, and the rank meadAffords the wandering hares a rich repast,Throw off thy ready pack. See, where they spreadAnd range around, and dash the glittering dew.If some stanch hound, with his authentick voice,Avow the recent trail, the justling tribeAttend his call; then with one mutual cryThe welcome news confirm, and echoing hillsRepeat the pleasing tale. See, how they threadThe brakes, and up yon furrow drive along:But quick they back recoil, and wisely checkTheir eager haste; then, o’er the fallow’d groundHow leisurely they work, and many a pauseThe harmonious concert breaks; till more assured,With joys redoubled the low vallies ring.What artful labyrinths perplex their way!Ah, there she lies! how close! she pants, she doubtsIf now she lives; she trembles as she sits,
Spare not the straggling cur, that wildly roves,But let thy brisk assistant, on his back,Imprint thy just resentments; let each lashBite to the quick, till, howling, he return,And, whining, creep amid the trembling crowd.Here, on this verdant spot, where nature kind,With double blessings crowns the farmer’s hopes;Where flowers autumnal spring, and the rank meadAffords the wandering hares a rich repast,Throw off thy ready pack. See, where they spreadAnd range around, and dash the glittering dew.If some stanch hound, with his authentick voice,Avow the recent trail, the justling tribeAttend his call; then with one mutual cryThe welcome news confirm, and echoing hillsRepeat the pleasing tale. See, how they threadThe brakes, and up yon furrow drive along:But quick they back recoil, and wisely checkTheir eager haste; then, o’er the fallow’d groundHow leisurely they work, and many a pauseThe harmonious concert breaks; till more assured,With joys redoubled the low vallies ring.What artful labyrinths perplex their way!Ah, there she lies! how close! she pants, she doubtsIf now she lives; she trembles as she sits,
Spare not the straggling cur, that wildly roves,But let thy brisk assistant, on his back,Imprint thy just resentments; let each lashBite to the quick, till, howling, he return,And, whining, creep amid the trembling crowd.Here, on this verdant spot, where nature kind,With double blessings crowns the farmer’s hopes;Where flowers autumnal spring, and the rank meadAffords the wandering hares a rich repast,Throw off thy ready pack. See, where they spreadAnd range around, and dash the glittering dew.If some stanch hound, with his authentick voice,Avow the recent trail, the justling tribeAttend his call; then with one mutual cryThe welcome news confirm, and echoing hillsRepeat the pleasing tale. See, how they threadThe brakes, and up yon furrow drive along:But quick they back recoil, and wisely checkTheir eager haste; then, o’er the fallow’d groundHow leisurely they work, and many a pauseThe harmonious concert breaks; till more assured,With joys redoubled the low vallies ring.What artful labyrinths perplex their way!Ah, there she lies! how close! she pants, she doubtsIf now she lives; she trembles as she sits,
BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 139-163.
With horror seized! The wither’d grass, that clingsAround her head, of the same russet hue,Almost deceived my sight, had not her eyes,With life full beaming, her vain wiles betray’d.At distance draw thy pack, let all be hush’d,No clamour loud, no frantick joy be heard,Lest the wild hound run gadding o’er the plain,Untractable, nor hear thy chiding voice.Now gently put her off; see how directTo her known meuse she flies! Here, huntsman, bring,But without hurry, all thy jolly hounds,And calmly lay them in. How low they stoop,And seem to plough the ground! then, all at once,With greedy nostrils, snuff the fuming steam,That glads their fluttering hearts. As winds, let looseFrom the dark caverns of the blustering god,They burst away, and sweep the dewy lawn.Hope gives them wings, while she’s spurr’d on by fear.The welkin rings; men, dogs, hills, rocks, and woods,In the full concert join. Now, my brave youths,Stripp’d for the chase, give all your souls to joy!See how their coursers, than the mountain roeMore fleet, the verdant carpet skim; thick cloudsSnorting they breathe, their shining hoofs scarce printThe grass unbruised; with emulation fired,
With horror seized! The wither’d grass, that clingsAround her head, of the same russet hue,Almost deceived my sight, had not her eyes,With life full beaming, her vain wiles betray’d.At distance draw thy pack, let all be hush’d,No clamour loud, no frantick joy be heard,Lest the wild hound run gadding o’er the plain,Untractable, nor hear thy chiding voice.Now gently put her off; see how directTo her known meuse she flies! Here, huntsman, bring,But without hurry, all thy jolly hounds,And calmly lay them in. How low they stoop,And seem to plough the ground! then, all at once,With greedy nostrils, snuff the fuming steam,That glads their fluttering hearts. As winds, let looseFrom the dark caverns of the blustering god,They burst away, and sweep the dewy lawn.Hope gives them wings, while she’s spurr’d on by fear.The welkin rings; men, dogs, hills, rocks, and woods,In the full concert join. Now, my brave youths,Stripp’d for the chase, give all your souls to joy!See how their coursers, than the mountain roeMore fleet, the verdant carpet skim; thick cloudsSnorting they breathe, their shining hoofs scarce printThe grass unbruised; with emulation fired,
With horror seized! The wither’d grass, that clingsAround her head, of the same russet hue,Almost deceived my sight, had not her eyes,With life full beaming, her vain wiles betray’d.At distance draw thy pack, let all be hush’d,No clamour loud, no frantick joy be heard,Lest the wild hound run gadding o’er the plain,Untractable, nor hear thy chiding voice.Now gently put her off; see how directTo her known meuse she flies! Here, huntsman, bring,But without hurry, all thy jolly hounds,And calmly lay them in. How low they stoop,And seem to plough the ground! then, all at once,With greedy nostrils, snuff the fuming steam,That glads their fluttering hearts. As winds, let looseFrom the dark caverns of the blustering god,They burst away, and sweep the dewy lawn.Hope gives them wings, while she’s spurr’d on by fear.The welkin rings; men, dogs, hills, rocks, and woods,In the full concert join. Now, my brave youths,Stripp’d for the chase, give all your souls to joy!See how their coursers, than the mountain roeMore fleet, the verdant carpet skim; thick cloudsSnorting they breathe, their shining hoofs scarce printThe grass unbruised; with emulation fired,
BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 164-188.
They strain to lead the field, top the barr’d gate,O’er the deep ditch exulting bound, and brushThe thorny-twining hedge: the riders bendO’er their arch’d necks; with steady hands, by turnsIndulge their speed, or moderate their rage.Where are their sorrows, disappointments, wrongs,Vexations, sickness, cares? All, all are gone,And with the panting winds lag far behind.Huntsman! her gait observe; if in wide ringsShe wheel her mazy way, in the same roundPersisting still, she’ll foil the beaten track.But, if she fly, and with the favouring windUrge her bold course, less intricate thy task;Push on thy pack. Like some poor exiled wretch,The frighted chase leaves her late dear abodes,O’er plains remote she stretches far away,Ah, never to return! for greedy deathHovering exults, secure to seize his prey.Hark! from yon covert, where those towering oaksAbove the humble copse aspiring rise,What glorious triumphs burst, in every gale,Upon our ravish’d ears! the hunters shout,The clanging horns swell their sweet-winding notes;The pack, wide-opening, load the trembling airWith various melody; from tree to tree
They strain to lead the field, top the barr’d gate,O’er the deep ditch exulting bound, and brushThe thorny-twining hedge: the riders bendO’er their arch’d necks; with steady hands, by turnsIndulge their speed, or moderate their rage.Where are their sorrows, disappointments, wrongs,Vexations, sickness, cares? All, all are gone,And with the panting winds lag far behind.Huntsman! her gait observe; if in wide ringsShe wheel her mazy way, in the same roundPersisting still, she’ll foil the beaten track.But, if she fly, and with the favouring windUrge her bold course, less intricate thy task;Push on thy pack. Like some poor exiled wretch,The frighted chase leaves her late dear abodes,O’er plains remote she stretches far away,Ah, never to return! for greedy deathHovering exults, secure to seize his prey.Hark! from yon covert, where those towering oaksAbove the humble copse aspiring rise,What glorious triumphs burst, in every gale,Upon our ravish’d ears! the hunters shout,The clanging horns swell their sweet-winding notes;The pack, wide-opening, load the trembling airWith various melody; from tree to tree
They strain to lead the field, top the barr’d gate,O’er the deep ditch exulting bound, and brushThe thorny-twining hedge: the riders bendO’er their arch’d necks; with steady hands, by turnsIndulge their speed, or moderate their rage.Where are their sorrows, disappointments, wrongs,Vexations, sickness, cares? All, all are gone,And with the panting winds lag far behind.Huntsman! her gait observe; if in wide ringsShe wheel her mazy way, in the same roundPersisting still, she’ll foil the beaten track.But, if she fly, and with the favouring windUrge her bold course, less intricate thy task;Push on thy pack. Like some poor exiled wretch,The frighted chase leaves her late dear abodes,O’er plains remote she stretches far away,Ah, never to return! for greedy deathHovering exults, secure to seize his prey.Hark! from yon covert, where those towering oaksAbove the humble copse aspiring rise,What glorious triumphs burst, in every gale,Upon our ravish’d ears! the hunters shout,The clanging horns swell their sweet-winding notes;The pack, wide-opening, load the trembling airWith various melody; from tree to tree
BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 189-213.
The propagated cry redoubling bounds,And winged zephyrs waft the floating joyThrough all the regions near. Afflictive birchNo more the schoolboy dreads, his prison broke,Scampering he flies, nor heeds his master’s call;The weary traveller forgets his road,And climbs the adjacent hill; the ploughman leavesThe unfinish’d furrow; nor his bleating flocksAre now the shepherd’s joy; men, boys, and girls,Desert the unpeopled village; and wild crowdsSpread o’er the plain, by the sweet frenzy seized.Look, how she pants! and o’er yon opening gladeSlips, glancing, by; while, at the further end,The puzzling pack unravel wile by wile,Maze within maze. The covert’s utmost boundSlily she skirts; behind them, cautious, creeps,And, in that very track, so lately stain’dBy all the steaming crowd, seems to pursueThe foe she flies. Let cavillers denyThat brutes have reason; sure, ’tis something more,’Tis Heaven directs, and stratagems inspires,Beyond the short extent of human thought.But hold—I see her from the covert break;Sad, on yon little eminence, she sits;Intent she listens, with one ear erect,
The propagated cry redoubling bounds,And winged zephyrs waft the floating joyThrough all the regions near. Afflictive birchNo more the schoolboy dreads, his prison broke,Scampering he flies, nor heeds his master’s call;The weary traveller forgets his road,And climbs the adjacent hill; the ploughman leavesThe unfinish’d furrow; nor his bleating flocksAre now the shepherd’s joy; men, boys, and girls,Desert the unpeopled village; and wild crowdsSpread o’er the plain, by the sweet frenzy seized.Look, how she pants! and o’er yon opening gladeSlips, glancing, by; while, at the further end,The puzzling pack unravel wile by wile,Maze within maze. The covert’s utmost boundSlily she skirts; behind them, cautious, creeps,And, in that very track, so lately stain’dBy all the steaming crowd, seems to pursueThe foe she flies. Let cavillers denyThat brutes have reason; sure, ’tis something more,’Tis Heaven directs, and stratagems inspires,Beyond the short extent of human thought.But hold—I see her from the covert break;Sad, on yon little eminence, she sits;Intent she listens, with one ear erect,
The propagated cry redoubling bounds,And winged zephyrs waft the floating joyThrough all the regions near. Afflictive birchNo more the schoolboy dreads, his prison broke,Scampering he flies, nor heeds his master’s call;The weary traveller forgets his road,And climbs the adjacent hill; the ploughman leavesThe unfinish’d furrow; nor his bleating flocksAre now the shepherd’s joy; men, boys, and girls,Desert the unpeopled village; and wild crowdsSpread o’er the plain, by the sweet frenzy seized.Look, how she pants! and o’er yon opening gladeSlips, glancing, by; while, at the further end,The puzzling pack unravel wile by wile,Maze within maze. The covert’s utmost boundSlily she skirts; behind them, cautious, creeps,And, in that very track, so lately stain’dBy all the steaming crowd, seems to pursueThe foe she flies. Let cavillers denyThat brutes have reason; sure, ’tis something more,’Tis Heaven directs, and stratagems inspires,Beyond the short extent of human thought.But hold—I see her from the covert break;Sad, on yon little eminence, she sits;Intent she listens, with one ear erect,
BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 214-238.
Pondering, and doubtful, what new course to take,And how to escape the fierce blood-thirsty crew,That still urge on, and still, in vollies loud,Insult her woes, and mock her sore distress.As now, in louder peals, the loaded windsBring on the gathering storm, her fears prevail;And o’er the plain, and o’er the mountain’s ridge,Away she flies; nor ships, with wind and tide,And all their canvas wings, scud half so fast.Once more, ye jovial train, your courage try,And each clean courser’s speed. We scour along,In pleasing hurry and confusion toss’d;Oblivion to be wish’d. The patient packHang on the scent, unwearied; up they climb,And ardent we pursue; our labouring steedsWe press, we gore; till once the summit gain’d,Painfully panting, there we breathe awhile;Then, like a foaming torrent, pouring downPrecipitant, we smoke along the vale.Happy the man, who, with unrivall’d speed,Can pass his fellows, and with pleasure viewThe struggling pack; how, in the rapid course,Alternate they preside, and, justling, pushTo guide the dubious scent; how giddy youthOft, babbling, errs, by wiser age reproved;
Pondering, and doubtful, what new course to take,And how to escape the fierce blood-thirsty crew,That still urge on, and still, in vollies loud,Insult her woes, and mock her sore distress.As now, in louder peals, the loaded windsBring on the gathering storm, her fears prevail;And o’er the plain, and o’er the mountain’s ridge,Away she flies; nor ships, with wind and tide,And all their canvas wings, scud half so fast.Once more, ye jovial train, your courage try,And each clean courser’s speed. We scour along,In pleasing hurry and confusion toss’d;Oblivion to be wish’d. The patient packHang on the scent, unwearied; up they climb,And ardent we pursue; our labouring steedsWe press, we gore; till once the summit gain’d,Painfully panting, there we breathe awhile;Then, like a foaming torrent, pouring downPrecipitant, we smoke along the vale.Happy the man, who, with unrivall’d speed,Can pass his fellows, and with pleasure viewThe struggling pack; how, in the rapid course,Alternate they preside, and, justling, pushTo guide the dubious scent; how giddy youthOft, babbling, errs, by wiser age reproved;
Pondering, and doubtful, what new course to take,And how to escape the fierce blood-thirsty crew,That still urge on, and still, in vollies loud,Insult her woes, and mock her sore distress.As now, in louder peals, the loaded windsBring on the gathering storm, her fears prevail;And o’er the plain, and o’er the mountain’s ridge,Away she flies; nor ships, with wind and tide,And all their canvas wings, scud half so fast.Once more, ye jovial train, your courage try,And each clean courser’s speed. We scour along,In pleasing hurry and confusion toss’d;Oblivion to be wish’d. The patient packHang on the scent, unwearied; up they climb,And ardent we pursue; our labouring steedsWe press, we gore; till once the summit gain’d,Painfully panting, there we breathe awhile;Then, like a foaming torrent, pouring downPrecipitant, we smoke along the vale.Happy the man, who, with unrivall’d speed,Can pass his fellows, and with pleasure viewThe struggling pack; how, in the rapid course,Alternate they preside, and, justling, pushTo guide the dubious scent; how giddy youthOft, babbling, errs, by wiser age reproved;
BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 239-262.
How, niggard of his strength, the wise old houndHangs in the rear, till some important pointRouse all his diligence, or till the chaseSinking he finds; then to the head he springs,With thirst of glory fired, and wins the prize.Huntsman, take heed; they stop in full career:Yon crowding flocks, that at a distance gaze,Have haply foil’d the turf. See! that old hound,How busily he works, but dares not trustHis doubtful sense; draw yet a wider ring.Hark! now again the chorus fills: as bellsSallied awhile, at once their peal renew,And high in air the tuneful thunder rolls.See, how they toss, with animated rage,Recovering all they lost!—-- That eager hasteSome doubling wile foreshows.—Ah, yet once moreThey’re check’d!—hold back with speed—on either handThey flourish round—— even yet persist—’tis right:Away they spring; the rustling stubbles bendBeneath the driving storm. Now the poor chaseBegins to flag, to her last shifts reduced:From brake to brake she flies, and visits allHer well-known haunts, where once she ranged secure,With love and plenty bless’d. See! there she goes;
How, niggard of his strength, the wise old houndHangs in the rear, till some important pointRouse all his diligence, or till the chaseSinking he finds; then to the head he springs,With thirst of glory fired, and wins the prize.Huntsman, take heed; they stop in full career:Yon crowding flocks, that at a distance gaze,Have haply foil’d the turf. See! that old hound,How busily he works, but dares not trustHis doubtful sense; draw yet a wider ring.Hark! now again the chorus fills: as bellsSallied awhile, at once their peal renew,And high in air the tuneful thunder rolls.See, how they toss, with animated rage,Recovering all they lost!—-- That eager hasteSome doubling wile foreshows.—Ah, yet once moreThey’re check’d!—hold back with speed—on either handThey flourish round—— even yet persist—’tis right:Away they spring; the rustling stubbles bendBeneath the driving storm. Now the poor chaseBegins to flag, to her last shifts reduced:From brake to brake she flies, and visits allHer well-known haunts, where once she ranged secure,With love and plenty bless’d. See! there she goes;
How, niggard of his strength, the wise old houndHangs in the rear, till some important pointRouse all his diligence, or till the chaseSinking he finds; then to the head he springs,With thirst of glory fired, and wins the prize.Huntsman, take heed; they stop in full career:Yon crowding flocks, that at a distance gaze,Have haply foil’d the turf. See! that old hound,How busily he works, but dares not trustHis doubtful sense; draw yet a wider ring.Hark! now again the chorus fills: as bellsSallied awhile, at once their peal renew,And high in air the tuneful thunder rolls.See, how they toss, with animated rage,Recovering all they lost!—-- That eager hasteSome doubling wile foreshows.—Ah, yet once moreThey’re check’d!—hold back with speed—on either handThey flourish round—— even yet persist—’tis right:Away they spring; the rustling stubbles bendBeneath the driving storm. Now the poor chaseBegins to flag, to her last shifts reduced:From brake to brake she flies, and visits allHer well-known haunts, where once she ranged secure,With love and plenty bless’d. See! there she goes;
BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 263-287.
She reels along, and, by her gait, betraysHer inward weakness. See, how black she looks!The sweat, that clogs the obstructed pores, scarce leavesA languid scent. And now, in open view,See, see! she flies; each eager hound exertsHis utmost speed, and stretches every nerve.How quick she turns, their gaping jaws eludes,And yet a moment lives; till round enclosedBy all the greedy pack, with infant screamsShe yields her breath, and there reluctant dies!So, when the furious Bacchanals assail’dThreïcian Orpheus, poor ill-fated bard!Loud was the cry; hills, woods, and Hebrus’ banks,Return’d their clamorous rage: distress’d he flies,Shifting from place to place, but flies in vain;For eager they pursue, till panting, faint,By noisy multitudes o’erpower’d, he sinks,To the relentless crowd a bleeding prey.The huntsman now, a deep incision made,Shakes out, with hands impure, and dashes down,Her reeking entrails, and yet quivering heart.These claim the pack; the bloody perquisiteFor all their toils. Stretch’d on the ground she lies,A mangled corse; in her dim glaring eyesCold death exults, and stiffens every limb.
She reels along, and, by her gait, betraysHer inward weakness. See, how black she looks!The sweat, that clogs the obstructed pores, scarce leavesA languid scent. And now, in open view,See, see! she flies; each eager hound exertsHis utmost speed, and stretches every nerve.How quick she turns, their gaping jaws eludes,And yet a moment lives; till round enclosedBy all the greedy pack, with infant screamsShe yields her breath, and there reluctant dies!So, when the furious Bacchanals assail’dThreïcian Orpheus, poor ill-fated bard!Loud was the cry; hills, woods, and Hebrus’ banks,Return’d their clamorous rage: distress’d he flies,Shifting from place to place, but flies in vain;For eager they pursue, till panting, faint,By noisy multitudes o’erpower’d, he sinks,To the relentless crowd a bleeding prey.The huntsman now, a deep incision made,Shakes out, with hands impure, and dashes down,Her reeking entrails, and yet quivering heart.These claim the pack; the bloody perquisiteFor all their toils. Stretch’d on the ground she lies,A mangled corse; in her dim glaring eyesCold death exults, and stiffens every limb.
She reels along, and, by her gait, betraysHer inward weakness. See, how black she looks!The sweat, that clogs the obstructed pores, scarce leavesA languid scent. And now, in open view,See, see! she flies; each eager hound exertsHis utmost speed, and stretches every nerve.How quick she turns, their gaping jaws eludes,And yet a moment lives; till round enclosedBy all the greedy pack, with infant screamsShe yields her breath, and there reluctant dies!So, when the furious Bacchanals assail’dThreïcian Orpheus, poor ill-fated bard!Loud was the cry; hills, woods, and Hebrus’ banks,Return’d their clamorous rage: distress’d he flies,Shifting from place to place, but flies in vain;For eager they pursue, till panting, faint,By noisy multitudes o’erpower’d, he sinks,To the relentless crowd a bleeding prey.The huntsman now, a deep incision made,Shakes out, with hands impure, and dashes down,Her reeking entrails, and yet quivering heart.These claim the pack; the bloody perquisiteFor all their toils. Stretch’d on the ground she lies,A mangled corse; in her dim glaring eyesCold death exults, and stiffens every limb.
BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 288-312.
Awed, by the threatening whip, the furious houndsAround her bay; or, at their master’s foot,Each happy favourite courts his kind applause,With humble adulation cowering low.All now is joy. With cheeks full-blown they windHer solemn dirge, while the loud-opening packThe concert swell, and hills and dales returnThe sadly-pleasing sounds. Thus the poor hare,A puny, dastard animal! but versedIn subtle wiles, diverts the youthful train.But if thy proud aspiring soul disdainsSo mean a prey, delighted with the pomp,Magnificence, and grandeur of the chase,Hear what the Muse from faithful records sings.Why, on the banks of Jumnah, Indian stream,Line within line, rise the pavilions proud,Their silken streamers waving in the wind?Why neighs the warrior horse? from tent to tent,Why press in crowds the buzzing multitude?Why shines the polish’d helm, and pointed lance,This way and that, far-beaming o’er the plain?Nor Visapour, nor Golconda rebel;Nor the great Sophy, with his numerous host,Lays waste the provinces; nor glory firesTo rob and to destroy, beneath the name
Awed, by the threatening whip, the furious houndsAround her bay; or, at their master’s foot,Each happy favourite courts his kind applause,With humble adulation cowering low.All now is joy. With cheeks full-blown they windHer solemn dirge, while the loud-opening packThe concert swell, and hills and dales returnThe sadly-pleasing sounds. Thus the poor hare,A puny, dastard animal! but versedIn subtle wiles, diverts the youthful train.But if thy proud aspiring soul disdainsSo mean a prey, delighted with the pomp,Magnificence, and grandeur of the chase,Hear what the Muse from faithful records sings.Why, on the banks of Jumnah, Indian stream,Line within line, rise the pavilions proud,Their silken streamers waving in the wind?Why neighs the warrior horse? from tent to tent,Why press in crowds the buzzing multitude?Why shines the polish’d helm, and pointed lance,This way and that, far-beaming o’er the plain?Nor Visapour, nor Golconda rebel;Nor the great Sophy, with his numerous host,Lays waste the provinces; nor glory firesTo rob and to destroy, beneath the name
Awed, by the threatening whip, the furious houndsAround her bay; or, at their master’s foot,Each happy favourite courts his kind applause,With humble adulation cowering low.All now is joy. With cheeks full-blown they windHer solemn dirge, while the loud-opening packThe concert swell, and hills and dales returnThe sadly-pleasing sounds. Thus the poor hare,A puny, dastard animal! but versedIn subtle wiles, diverts the youthful train.But if thy proud aspiring soul disdainsSo mean a prey, delighted with the pomp,Magnificence, and grandeur of the chase,Hear what the Muse from faithful records sings.Why, on the banks of Jumnah, Indian stream,Line within line, rise the pavilions proud,Their silken streamers waving in the wind?Why neighs the warrior horse? from tent to tent,Why press in crowds the buzzing multitude?Why shines the polish’d helm, and pointed lance,This way and that, far-beaming o’er the plain?Nor Visapour, nor Golconda rebel;Nor the great Sophy, with his numerous host,Lays waste the provinces; nor glory firesTo rob and to destroy, beneath the name
BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 313-337.
And specious guise of war. A nobler causeCalls Aurengzebe to arms. No cities sacked,No mothers tears, no helpless orphans cries,No violated leagues, with sharp remorse,Shall sting the conscious victor: but mankindShall hail him good and just: for ’tis on beastsHe draws his vengeful sword; on beasts of prey,Full fed with human gore. See, see, he comes!Imperial Delhi, opening wide her gates,Pours out her thronging legions, bright in arms,And all the pomp of war. Before them soundClarions and trumpets, breathing martial airs,And bold defiance. High, upon his throne,Borne on the back of his proud elephant,Sits the great chief of Timur’s glorious race:Sublime he sits, amid the radiant blazeOf gems and gold. Omrahs about him crowd,And rein the Arabian steed, and watch his nod:And potent Rajahs, who themselves presideO’er realms of wide extent; but here, submiss,Their homage pay; alternate kings and slaves.Next these, with prying eunuchs girt around,The fair sultanas of his court; a troopOf chosen beauties, but, with care, conceal’dFrom each intrusive eye; one look is death.
And specious guise of war. A nobler causeCalls Aurengzebe to arms. No cities sacked,No mothers tears, no helpless orphans cries,No violated leagues, with sharp remorse,Shall sting the conscious victor: but mankindShall hail him good and just: for ’tis on beastsHe draws his vengeful sword; on beasts of prey,Full fed with human gore. See, see, he comes!Imperial Delhi, opening wide her gates,Pours out her thronging legions, bright in arms,And all the pomp of war. Before them soundClarions and trumpets, breathing martial airs,And bold defiance. High, upon his throne,Borne on the back of his proud elephant,Sits the great chief of Timur’s glorious race:Sublime he sits, amid the radiant blazeOf gems and gold. Omrahs about him crowd,And rein the Arabian steed, and watch his nod:And potent Rajahs, who themselves presideO’er realms of wide extent; but here, submiss,Their homage pay; alternate kings and slaves.Next these, with prying eunuchs girt around,The fair sultanas of his court; a troopOf chosen beauties, but, with care, conceal’dFrom each intrusive eye; one look is death.
And specious guise of war. A nobler causeCalls Aurengzebe to arms. No cities sacked,No mothers tears, no helpless orphans cries,No violated leagues, with sharp remorse,Shall sting the conscious victor: but mankindShall hail him good and just: for ’tis on beastsHe draws his vengeful sword; on beasts of prey,Full fed with human gore. See, see, he comes!Imperial Delhi, opening wide her gates,Pours out her thronging legions, bright in arms,And all the pomp of war. Before them soundClarions and trumpets, breathing martial airs,And bold defiance. High, upon his throne,Borne on the back of his proud elephant,Sits the great chief of Timur’s glorious race:Sublime he sits, amid the radiant blazeOf gems and gold. Omrahs about him crowd,And rein the Arabian steed, and watch his nod:And potent Rajahs, who themselves presideO’er realms of wide extent; but here, submiss,Their homage pay; alternate kings and slaves.Next these, with prying eunuchs girt around,The fair sultanas of his court; a troopOf chosen beauties, but, with care, conceal’dFrom each intrusive eye; one look is death.
BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 338-362.
Ah! cruel Eastern law! had kings a powerBut equal to their wild tyrannick will,To rob us of the sun’s all-cheering ray,Were less severe. The vulgar close the march,Slaves and artificers; and Delhi mournsHer empty and depopulated streets.Now, at the camp arrived, with stern review,Through groves of spears, from file to file, he dartsHis sharp experienced eye; their order marks,Each in his station rang’d, exact and firm,Till in the boundless line his sight is lost.Not greater multitudes in arms appear’d,On these extended plains, when Ammon’s sonWith mighty Porus in dread battle join’d,The vassal world the prize. Nor was that hostMore numerous of old, which the great kingPour’d out on Greece, from all the unpeopled East;That bridged the Hellespont from shore to shore,And drank the rivers dry. Mean while, in troops,The busy hunter-train mark out the ground,A wide circumference; full many a leagueIn compass round; woods, rivers, hills, and plains,Large provinces; enough to gratifyAmbition’s highest aim, could reason boundMan’s erring will. Now sit, in close divan,
Ah! cruel Eastern law! had kings a powerBut equal to their wild tyrannick will,To rob us of the sun’s all-cheering ray,Were less severe. The vulgar close the march,Slaves and artificers; and Delhi mournsHer empty and depopulated streets.Now, at the camp arrived, with stern review,Through groves of spears, from file to file, he dartsHis sharp experienced eye; their order marks,Each in his station rang’d, exact and firm,Till in the boundless line his sight is lost.Not greater multitudes in arms appear’d,On these extended plains, when Ammon’s sonWith mighty Porus in dread battle join’d,The vassal world the prize. Nor was that hostMore numerous of old, which the great kingPour’d out on Greece, from all the unpeopled East;That bridged the Hellespont from shore to shore,And drank the rivers dry. Mean while, in troops,The busy hunter-train mark out the ground,A wide circumference; full many a leagueIn compass round; woods, rivers, hills, and plains,Large provinces; enough to gratifyAmbition’s highest aim, could reason boundMan’s erring will. Now sit, in close divan,
Ah! cruel Eastern law! had kings a powerBut equal to their wild tyrannick will,To rob us of the sun’s all-cheering ray,Were less severe. The vulgar close the march,Slaves and artificers; and Delhi mournsHer empty and depopulated streets.Now, at the camp arrived, with stern review,Through groves of spears, from file to file, he dartsHis sharp experienced eye; their order marks,Each in his station rang’d, exact and firm,Till in the boundless line his sight is lost.Not greater multitudes in arms appear’d,On these extended plains, when Ammon’s sonWith mighty Porus in dread battle join’d,The vassal world the prize. Nor was that hostMore numerous of old, which the great kingPour’d out on Greece, from all the unpeopled East;That bridged the Hellespont from shore to shore,And drank the rivers dry. Mean while, in troops,The busy hunter-train mark out the ground,A wide circumference; full many a leagueIn compass round; woods, rivers, hills, and plains,Large provinces; enough to gratifyAmbition’s highest aim, could reason boundMan’s erring will. Now sit, in close divan,