Argument.

BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 363-387.

The mighty chiefs of this prodigious host.He, from the throne, high-eminent presides;Gives out his mandates proud, laws of the chase,From ancient records drawn. With reverence low,And prostrate at his feet, the chiefs receiveHis irreversible decrees, from whichTo vary, is to die. Then, his brave bandsEach to his station leads, encamping round,Till the wide circle is completely form’d.Where decent order reigns: what these command,Those execute with speed, and punctual care,In all the strictest discipline of war;As if some watchful foe, with bold insult,Hung lowering o’er the camp. The high resolve,That flies on wings, through all the encircling line,Each motion steers, and animates the whole.So, by the sun’s attractive power controll’d,The planets in their spheres roll round his orb;On all he shines, and rules the great machine.Ere yet the morn dispels the fleeting mists,The signal given, by the loud trumpet’s voice,Now high in air the imperial standard waves,Emblazon’d rich with gold, and glittering gems;And, like a sheet of fire, through the dun gloomStreaming meteorous. The soldiers’ shouts,

BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 388-412.

And all the brazen instruments of war,With mutual clamour, and united din,Fill the large concave: while, from camp to camp,They catch the varied sounds, floating in air.Round all the wide circumference, tigers fellShrink at the noise; deep in his gloomy den,The lion starts, and morsels, yet unchew’d,Drop from his trembling jaws. Now, all at once,Onward they march, embattled, to the soundOf martial harmony; fifes, cornets, drums,That rouse the sleepy soul to arms, and boldHeroick deeds. In parties, here and thereDetach’d, o’er hill and dale, the hunters range,Inquisitive; strong dogs, that match in fightThe boldest brute, around their masters wait,A faithful guard. No haunt unsearch’d, they driveFrom every covert, and from every den,The lurking savages. Incessant shoutsRe-echo through the woods, and kindling firesGleam from the mountain tops; the forest seemsOne mingling blaze: like flocks of sheep, they flyBefore the flaming brand: fierce lions, pards,Boars, tigers, bears, and wolves; a dreadful crewOf grim blood-thirsty foes! growling along,They stalk, indignant; but fierce vengeance still

BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 413-437.

Hangs pealing on their rear, and pointed spearsPresent immediate death. Soon as the night,Wrapp’d in her sable veil, forbids the chase,They pitch their tents, in even ranks, aroundThe circling camp: the guards are placed; and fires,At proper distances ascending, rise,And paint the horizon with their ruddy light.So, round some island’s shore of large extent,Amid the gloomy horrors of the night,The billows, breaking on the pointed rocks,Seem all one flame, and the bright circuit wideAppears a bulwark of surrounding fire.What dreadful howlings, and what hideous roar,Disturb those peaceful shades! where erst the bird,That glads the night, had cheer’d the listening grovesWith sweet complainings. Through the silent gloomOft they the guards assail; as oft repell’dThey fly reluctant, with hot boiling rageStung to the quick, and mad with wild despair.Thus, day by day, they still the chase renew;At night encamp; till now, in straighter bounds,The circle lessens, and the beasts perceiveThe wall that hems them in on every side.And now their fury bursts, and knows no mean;From man they turn, and point their ill judged rage

BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 438-462.

Against their fellow brutes. With teeth and clawsThe civil war begins; grappling they tear;Lions on tigers prey, and bears on wolves:Horrible discord! till the crowd behindShouting pursue, and part the bloody fray.At once their wrath subsides; tame as the lamb,The lion hangs his head; the furious pard,Cow’d and subdued, flies from the face of man,Nor bears one glance of his commanding eye:So abject is a tyrant in distress.At last, within the narrow plain confined,A listed field, mark’d out for bloody deeds,An amphitheatre, more glorious farThan ancient Rome could boast, they crowd in heaps,Dismay’d, and quite appall’d. In meet array,Sheath’d in refulgent arms, a noble bandAdvance; great lords of high imperial blood,Early resolved to assert the royal race,And prove, by glorious deeds, their valour’s growthMature, ere yet the callow down has spreadIts curling shade. On bold Arabian steeds,With decent pride they sit, that fearless hearThe lion’s dreadful roar; and, down the rock,Swift shooting, plunge; or o’er the mountain’s ridgeStretching along, the greedy tiger leave,

BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 463-487.

Panting behind. On foot their faithful slaves,With javelins arm’d, attend; each watchful eyeFix’d on his youthful care, for him aloneHe fears; and, to redeem his life, unmoved,Would lose his own. The mighty Aurengzebe,From his high-elevated throne, beholdsHis blooming race; revolving in his mind,What once he was, in his gay spring of life,When vigour strung his nerves: parental joyMelts in his eyes, and flushes in his cheeks.Now the loud trumpet sounds a charge: the shoutsOf eager hosts, through the circling line,And the wild howlings of the beasts within,Rend wide the welkin! flights of arrows, wing’dWith death, and javelins, launch’d from every arm,Gall sore the brutal bands, with many a woundGored through and through. Despair at last prevails,When fainting nature shrinks, and rouses allTheir drooping courage: swell’d with furious rage,Their eyes dart fire; and on the youthful bandThey rush implacable. They their broad shieldsQuick interpose; on each devoted headTheir flaming falchions, as the bolts of Jove,Descend unerring. Prostrate on the groundThe grinning monsters lie, and their foul gore

BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 488-511.

Defiles the verdant plain. Nor idle standThe trusty slaves; with pointed spears, they pierceThrough their tough hides; or at their gaping mouthsAn easier passage find. The king of brutes,In broken roarings, breathes his last; the bearGrumbles in death; nor can his spotted skin,Though sleek it shine, with varied beauties gay,Save the proud pard from unrelenting fate.The battle bleeds; grim slaughter strides along,Glutting her greedy jaws, grins o’er her prey.Men, horses, dogs, fierce beasts of every kind,A strange promiscuous carnage, drench’d in blood,And heaps on heaps amass’d. What yet remainAlive, with vain assault, contend to breakThe impenetrable line: others, whom fearInspires with self-preserving wiles, beneathThe bodies of the slain for shelter creep;Aghast they fly, or hide their heads, dispersed.And now, perchance, had Heaven but pleased, the workOf death had been complete; and Aurengzebe,By one dread frown, extinguish’d half their race;When lo! the bright sultanas of his courtAppear, and to his ravish’d eyes displayThose charms, but rarely to the day reveal’d.

BOOK IITHE CHASE v. 512-523.

Lowly they bend, and humbly sue, to saveThe vanquish’d host. What mortal can deny,When suppliant beauty begs? At his command,Opening to right and left, the well-train’d troopsLeave a large void for their retreating foes.Away they fly, on wings of fear upborne,To seek, on distant hills, their late abodes.Ye proud oppressors, whose vain hearts exultIn wantonness of power, ’gainst the brute race,Fierce robbers, like yourselves, a guiltless warWage uncontroll’d; here quench your thirst of blood:But learn, from Aurengzebe, to spare mankind.

Book IIIBook III

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.

InAlbion’s isle, when glorious Edgar reign’d,He, wisely provident, from her white cliffsLaunch’d half her forests, and, with numerous fleets,Cover’d his wide domain: there proudly rode,Lord of the deep, the great prerogativeOf British monarchs. Each invader bold,Dane and Norwegian, at a distance gazed,And, disappointed, gnash’d his teeth in vain.He scour’d the seas, and to remotest shores,With swelling sails, the trembling corsair fled.Rich commerce flourish’d; and with busy oarsDash’d the resounding surge. Nor less, at land,His royal cares; wise, potent, gracious prince!

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 14-38.

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 grazedThe social troops; and soon their large increase,With curling fleeces, whiten’d all the plains.But yet, alas! the wily fox remain’d,A subtle, pilfering foe, prowling aroundIn midnight shades, and wakeful to destroy.In the full fold, the poor defenceless lamb,Seized by his guileful arts, with sweet warm blood,Supplies a rich repast. The mournful ewe,Her dearest treasure lost, through the dun nightWanders perplex’d, and, darkling, bleats in vain:While, in the adjacent bush, poor Philomel,Herself a parent once, till wanton churlsDespoil’d 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 oppress’d, and bring the felon vileTo just disgrace! Ere yet the morning peep,

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 39-61.

Or stars retire from the first blush of day,With thy far-echoing voice alarm thy pack,And rouse thy bold compeers. Then to the copse,Thick with entangling grass, or prickly furze,With silence lead thy many-colour’d hounds,In all their beauty’s pride. See! how they rangeDispersed; how busily, this way and that,They cross, examining, with curious nose,Each likely haunt. Hark! on the drag I hearTheir doubtful notes, preluding to a cryMore nobly full, and swell’d with every mouth.As straggling armies, at the trumpet’s voice,Press to their standard; hither all repair,And hurry through the woods with hasty step,Rustling and full of hope; now, driven in heaps,They push, they strive, while from his kennel sneaksThe conscious villain. See! he skulks along,Sleek, at the shepherd’s cost, and plump, with mealsPurloin’d: so thrive the wicked here below.Though high his brush he bear, though, tipp’d with white,It gaily shine, yet ere the sun, declined,Recall the shades of night, the pamper’d rogueShall rue his fate, reversed; and, at his heels,

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 62-84.

Behold the just avenger, swift to seizeHis forfeit head, and thirsting for his blood.Heavens! what melodious strains! how beat our hearts,Big with tumultuous joy! the loaded galesBreathe harmony; and, as the tempest drives,From wood to wood, through every dark recess,The forest thunders, and the mountains shake.The chorus swells; less various, and less sweet,The trilling notes, when, in those very groves,The feather’d 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 musick, in one instrument combineAn universal minstrelsy. And nowIn vain each earth he tries; the doors are barr’d,Impregnable; nor is the covert safe;He pants for purer air. Hark! what loud shoutsRe-echo through the groves!—he breaks away!Shrill 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;

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 85-108.

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 brave,True courage never fails: in vain the streamIn foaming eddies whirls; in vain the ditch,Wide-gaping, threatens death: the craggy steep,Where 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, toss’d on high,Ride on the billows, and defy the storm.What lengths we pass! where will the wandering chaseLead us, bewilder’d! smooth as swallows skimThe new-shorn mead, and far more swift, we fly.See, my brave pack! how to the head they press,Justling in close array; then, more diffuse,Obliquely wheel, while, from their opening mouths,The vollied thunder breaks. So, when the cranesTheir annual voyage steer, with wanton wingTheir figure oft they change, and their loud clang

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 109-132.

From cloud to cloud rebounds. How far behindThe hunter-crew, wide-straggling o’er the plain!The panting courser now, with trembling nerves,Begins 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 distain’d. 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,Rooted in earth, unmoved and fix’d he stands,For every cruel curse returns a groan,And sobs, and faints, and dies! who, without grief,Can view that pamper’d 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,Drove like a pannier’d ass, and scourged along!While these, with loosen’d reins and dangling heels,

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 133-155.

Hang on their reeling palfreys, that scarce bearTheir weights; another, in the treacherous bog,Lies floundering, half ingulf’d. What biting thoughtsTorment the abandon’d crew! Old age lamentsHis vigour spent: the tall, plump, brawny youth,Curses his cumbrous bulk; and envies, now,The short pygmean race, he whilom kenn’d,With proud insulting leer. A chosen few,Alone, the sport enjoy, nor droop beneathTheir pleasing toils. Here, huntsman! from this highthObserve yon birds of prey; if I can judge,’Tis there the villain lurks: they hover round,And 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 unmoisten’d hangs; symptoms too sureOf sudden death. Ha! yet he flies, nor yieldsTo black despair: but one loose more, and allHis wiles are vain. Hark, through yon village nowThe rattling clamour rings. The barns, the cots,And leafless elms, return the joyous sounds.Through every homestall, and through every yard,His midnight walks, panting, forlorn, he flies;

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 156-180.

Through every hole he sneaks, through every jakes,Plunging, he wades, besmear’d; and fondly hopesIn a superiour stench to lose his own:But, faithful to the track, the unerring hounds,With peals of echoing vengeance, close pursue.And now, distress’d, no sheltering covert near,Into the hen-roost creeps, whose walls, with goreDistain’d, 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 blood,With 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 foeStretch’d 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 mate,With 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.

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 181-204.

Pompous incumbrance! a magnificenceUseless, vexatious! for the wily fox,Safe in the increasing number of his foes,Kens well the great advantage: slinks behind,And slyly creeps through the same beaten track,And hunts them step by step; then views, escaped,With inward ecstasy, the panting throngIn their own footsteps puzzled, foil’d, and lost.So, when proud Eastern kings summon to armsTheir gaudy legions, from far distant climesThey flock in crowds, unpeopling half a world;But when the day of battle calls them forth,To charge the well-train’d foe, a band compactOf chosen veterans, they press blindly on,In heaps confused, by their own weapons fall,A smoking carnage scatter’d o’er the plain.Nor hounds alone this noxious brood destroy:The plunder’d warrener full many a wileDevises, to entrap his greedy foe,Fat with nocturnal spoils. At close of day,He silent drags his trail; then from the groundPares thin the close-grazed turf; there, with nice hand,Covers the latent death, with curious springsPrepared to fly at once, whene’er the tread

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 205-229.

Of 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 fail’d, the captive foxHas shared the wounded joint, and, with a limb,Compounded for his life. But if, perchance,In the deep pitfall plunged, there’s no escape;But unreprieved he dies, and, bleach’d in air,The 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 betray’d,Heedless of fate, within its gaping jawsExpires, indignant. When the orient beamWith blushes paints the dawn, and all the raceCarnivorous, with blood full-gorged, retireInto their darksome cells, there, satiate, snoreO’er dripping offals, and the mangled limbsOf men and beasts, the painful foresterClimbs the high hills, whose proud aspiring tops,With the tall cedar crown’d, and taper fir,Assail the clouds; there, ’mong the craggy rocks,And thickets intricate, trembling, he viewsHis footsteps in the sand, the dismal road

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 230-254.

And avenue to death. Hither he callsHis watchful bands, and, low into the ground,A pit they sink, full many a fathom deep:Then, in the midst, a column high is rear’d,The butt of some fair tree; upon whose topA lamb is placed, just ravish’d 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 mountains brow,And hunger keen, and pungent thirst of blood,Rouze up the slothful beast, he shakes his sides,Slow-rising from his lair, and stretches wideHis ravenous paws, with recent gore distain’d;The forests tremble as he roars aloud,Impatient to destroy. O’erjoy’d, he hearsThe bleating innocent, that claims, in vain,The shepherd’s care, and seeks, with piteous moan,The foodful teat; himself, alas! design’dAnother’s meal. For now the greedy bruteWinds him from far; and, leaping o’er the mound,To seize his trembling prey, headlong is plungedInto the deep abyss. Prostrate he lies,Astunn’d, and impotent. Ah! what availThine eye-balls flashing fire, thy length of tail

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 255-279.

That lashes thy broad sides, thy jaws besmear’dWith blood, and offals crude, thy shaggy mane,The terrour of the woods, thy stately port,And bulk enormous, since, by stratagem,Thy strength is foil’d? Unequal is the strife,When sovereign reason combats brutal rage.On 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 fruit,Of various kinds, surcharged; the downy peach,The clustering vine, and, of bright golden rind,The fragrant orange. Soon as evening grayAdvances slow, besprinkling all around,With kind refreshing dews, the thirsty glebe,The stately elephant, from the close shade,With step majestic, strides, eager to tasteThe cooler breeze, that from the sea-beat shoreDelightful breathes, or, in the limpid stream,To lave his panting sides; joyous he scents

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 280-304.

The rich repast, unweeting of the deathThat 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 turf,Trembling, gives way; and the unwieldy beast,Self-sinking, drops into the dark profound.So when dilated vapours, struggling, heaveThe incumbent earth, if, chance, the cavern’d ground,Shrinking, subside, and the thin surface yield,Down sinks, at once, the ponderous dome, ingulf’d,With 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 fix’d,A polish’d mirror stops, in full career,The furious brute: he there his image views;Spots against spots, with rage improving, glow;Another pard his bristly whiskers curls,Grins as he grins, fierce-menacing, and wideDistends his opening paws; himself againstHimself opposed, and with dread vengeance arm’d.

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 305-329.

The huntsman, now secure, with fatal aimDirects the pointed spear, by which transfix’d,He 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, annoysHis brethren of the plains; without whose aidThe hunter’s arts were vain, unskill’d to wage,With the more active brutes, an equal war;But borne by him, without the well-train’d pack,Man dares his foe, on wings of wind secure.Him the fierce Arab mounts, and, with his troopOf bold compeers, ranges the desert wild,Where, by the magnet’s aid, the travellerSteers his untrodden course; yet oft, on land,Is wreck’d, in the high-rolling waves of sandImmersed, 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 herd,As large as that in Erimanthian woods,A match for Hercules: round him they fly,In circles wide; and each, in passing, sendsHis feather’d death into his brawny sides.But perilous the attempt; for, if the steed

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 330-354.

Haply too near approach, or the loose earthHis footing fail, the watchful angry beastThe advantage spies, and, at one sidelong glance,Rips 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; adownHis tortured sides the crimson torrents roll,From many a gaping font; and now at last,Staggering, 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 awe,Windsor’s green glades, where Denham, tuneful bard,Charm’d once the listening Dryads with his song,Sublimely sweet. O grant me, sacred shade,To glean, submiss, what thy full sickle leaves!The morning sun, that gilds, with trembling rays,Windsor’s high towers, beholds the courtly trainMount for the chase; nor views in all his courseA scene so gay: heroick, noble youths,

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 355-379.

In arts and arms renown’d, and lovely nymphs,The fairest of this isle, where beauty dwells,Delighted, and deserts her Paphian grove,For our more favour’d shades; in proud paradeThese shine magnificent, and press aroundThe royal happy pair. Great in themselves,They smile superiour; 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 arms,As those of old; unskill’d to wield the sword,Or bend the bow, these kill with surer aim.The royal offspring, fairest of the fair,Lead on the splendid train. Anna, more brightThan summer suns, or as the lightning keen,With irresistible effulgence arm’d,Fires every heart: he must be more than manWho, unconcern’d, 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!

BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 380-404.

Ever triumphant! whose victorious charms,Without the needless aid of high descent,Had awed mankind, and taught the world’s great lordsTo bow, and sue for grace. But who is he,Fresh 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 array’d?Or Britain’s second hope? Hail, blooming youth!May all your virtues, with your years, improve,Till, in consummate worth, you shine the prideOf these our days, and, to succeeding times,A bright example. As his guard of mutesOn the great sultan wait, with eyes deject,And fix’d on earth, no voice, no sound, is heardWithin the wide serail, but all is hush’d,And awful silence reigns; thus stand the pack,Mute, and unmoved, and cowering low to earth,While pass the glittering court, and royal pair:So disciplined those hounds, and so reserved,Whose 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.

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