BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 405-429.
Unharbour’d now, the royal stag forsakesHis wonted lair; he shakes his dappled sides,And tosses high his beamy head; the copseBeneath his antlers bends. What doubling shiftsHe tries! not more the wily hare: in theseWould still persist, did not the full-mouth’d pack,With dreadful concert, thunder in his rear.The woods reply, the hunter’s cheering shoutsFloat through the glades, and the wide forest rings.How merrily they chant! their nostrils deepInhale the grateful steam. Such is the cry,And such the harmonious din, the soldier deemsThe battle kindling, and the statesman graveForgets his weighty cares; each age, each sex,In the wild transport joins; luxuriant joy,And pleasure in excess, sparkling, exultOn every brow, and revel unrestrained.How happy art thou, man! when thou’rt no moreThyself; when all the pangs, that grind thy soul,In rapture, and in sweet oblivion lost,Yield a short interval, and ease from pain!See, the swift courser strains, his shining hoofsSecurely beat the solid ground. Who nowThe dangerous pitfall fears, with tangling heathHigh-overgrown? or who the quivering bog,
Unharbour’d now, the royal stag forsakesHis wonted lair; he shakes his dappled sides,And tosses high his beamy head; the copseBeneath his antlers bends. What doubling shiftsHe tries! not more the wily hare: in theseWould still persist, did not the full-mouth’d pack,With dreadful concert, thunder in his rear.The woods reply, the hunter’s cheering shoutsFloat through the glades, and the wide forest rings.How merrily they chant! their nostrils deepInhale the grateful steam. Such is the cry,And such the harmonious din, the soldier deemsThe battle kindling, and the statesman graveForgets his weighty cares; each age, each sex,In the wild transport joins; luxuriant joy,And pleasure in excess, sparkling, exultOn every brow, and revel unrestrained.How happy art thou, man! when thou’rt no moreThyself; when all the pangs, that grind thy soul,In rapture, and in sweet oblivion lost,Yield a short interval, and ease from pain!See, the swift courser strains, his shining hoofsSecurely beat the solid ground. Who nowThe dangerous pitfall fears, with tangling heathHigh-overgrown? or who the quivering bog,
Unharbour’d now, the royal stag forsakesHis wonted lair; he shakes his dappled sides,And tosses high his beamy head; the copseBeneath his antlers bends. What doubling shiftsHe tries! not more the wily hare: in theseWould still persist, did not the full-mouth’d pack,With dreadful concert, thunder in his rear.The woods reply, the hunter’s cheering shoutsFloat through the glades, and the wide forest rings.How merrily they chant! their nostrils deepInhale the grateful steam. Such is the cry,And such the harmonious din, the soldier deemsThe battle kindling, and the statesman graveForgets his weighty cares; each age, each sex,In the wild transport joins; luxuriant joy,And pleasure in excess, sparkling, exultOn every brow, and revel unrestrained.How happy art thou, man! when thou’rt no moreThyself; when all the pangs, that grind thy soul,In rapture, and in sweet oblivion lost,Yield a short interval, and ease from pain!See, the swift courser strains, his shining hoofsSecurely beat the solid ground. Who nowThe dangerous pitfall fears, with tangling heathHigh-overgrown? or who the quivering bog,
BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 430-454.
Soft yielding to the step? All now is plain,Plain as the strand, sea-laved, that stretches farBeneath the rocky shore. Glades crossing glades,The forest opens to our wondering view:Such was the king’s command. Let tyrants fierceLay waste the world; his the more glorious part,To check their pride; and when the brazen voiceOf war is hush’d, as erst victorious Rome,To employ his station’d legions in the worksOf peace; to smooth the rugged wilderness,To drain the stagnate fen, to raise the slopeDepending road, and to make gay the faceOf nature with the embellishments of art.How melts my beating heart! as I beholdEach lovely nymph, our island’s boast and pride,Push on the generous steed, that strokes alongO’er rough, o’er smooth; nor heeds the steepy hill,Nor falters in the extended vale below;Their garments loosely waving in the wind,And all the flush of beauty in their cheeks:While at their sides their pensive lovers wait,Direct their dubious course; now chill’d with fear,Solicitous, and now with love inflamed.O grant, indulgent Heaven, no rising stormMay darken, with black wings, this glorious scene!
Soft yielding to the step? All now is plain,Plain as the strand, sea-laved, that stretches farBeneath the rocky shore. Glades crossing glades,The forest opens to our wondering view:Such was the king’s command. Let tyrants fierceLay waste the world; his the more glorious part,To check their pride; and when the brazen voiceOf war is hush’d, as erst victorious Rome,To employ his station’d legions in the worksOf peace; to smooth the rugged wilderness,To drain the stagnate fen, to raise the slopeDepending road, and to make gay the faceOf nature with the embellishments of art.How melts my beating heart! as I beholdEach lovely nymph, our island’s boast and pride,Push on the generous steed, that strokes alongO’er rough, o’er smooth; nor heeds the steepy hill,Nor falters in the extended vale below;Their garments loosely waving in the wind,And all the flush of beauty in their cheeks:While at their sides their pensive lovers wait,Direct their dubious course; now chill’d with fear,Solicitous, and now with love inflamed.O grant, indulgent Heaven, no rising stormMay darken, with black wings, this glorious scene!
Soft yielding to the step? All now is plain,Plain as the strand, sea-laved, that stretches farBeneath the rocky shore. Glades crossing glades,The forest opens to our wondering view:Such was the king’s command. Let tyrants fierceLay waste the world; his the more glorious part,To check their pride; and when the brazen voiceOf war is hush’d, as erst victorious Rome,To employ his station’d legions in the worksOf peace; to smooth the rugged wilderness,To drain the stagnate fen, to raise the slopeDepending road, and to make gay the faceOf nature with the embellishments of art.How melts my beating heart! as I beholdEach lovely nymph, our island’s boast and pride,Push on the generous steed, that strokes alongO’er rough, o’er smooth; nor heeds the steepy hill,Nor falters in the extended vale below;Their garments loosely waving in the wind,And all the flush of beauty in their cheeks:While at their sides their pensive lovers wait,Direct their dubious course; now chill’d with fear,Solicitous, and now with love inflamed.O grant, indulgent Heaven, no rising stormMay darken, with black wings, this glorious scene!
BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 455-478.
Should some malignant power thus damp our joys,Vain were the gloomy cave, such as, of old,Betray’d to lawless love the Tyrian queen:For Britain’s virtuous nymphs are chaste, as fair;Spotless, unblamed, with equal triumph reignIn the dun gloom, as in the blaze of day.Now the blown stag through woods, bogs, roads, and streams,Has measured half the forest; but, alas!He flies in vain; he flies not from his fears.Though far he cast the lingering pack behind,His haggard fancy still, with horror, viewsThe fell destroyer; still the fatal cryInsults his ears, and wounds his trembling heart.So the poor fury-haunted wretch, his handsIn guiltless blood distain’d, still seems to hearThe dying shrieks; and the pale threatening ghostMoves as he moves, and, as he flies, pursues.See here, his slot; up yon green hill he climbs,Pants on its brow awhile; sadly looks backOn his pursuers, covering all the plain;But, wrung with anguish, bears not long the sight,Shoots down the steep, and sweats along the vale;There mingles with the herd, where once he reign’dProud monarch of the groves; whose clashing beam
Should some malignant power thus damp our joys,Vain were the gloomy cave, such as, of old,Betray’d to lawless love the Tyrian queen:For Britain’s virtuous nymphs are chaste, as fair;Spotless, unblamed, with equal triumph reignIn the dun gloom, as in the blaze of day.Now the blown stag through woods, bogs, roads, and streams,Has measured half the forest; but, alas!He flies in vain; he flies not from his fears.Though far he cast the lingering pack behind,His haggard fancy still, with horror, viewsThe fell destroyer; still the fatal cryInsults his ears, and wounds his trembling heart.So the poor fury-haunted wretch, his handsIn guiltless blood distain’d, still seems to hearThe dying shrieks; and the pale threatening ghostMoves as he moves, and, as he flies, pursues.See here, his slot; up yon green hill he climbs,Pants on its brow awhile; sadly looks backOn his pursuers, covering all the plain;But, wrung with anguish, bears not long the sight,Shoots down the steep, and sweats along the vale;There mingles with the herd, where once he reign’dProud monarch of the groves; whose clashing beam
Should some malignant power thus damp our joys,Vain were the gloomy cave, such as, of old,Betray’d to lawless love the Tyrian queen:For Britain’s virtuous nymphs are chaste, as fair;Spotless, unblamed, with equal triumph reignIn the dun gloom, as in the blaze of day.Now the blown stag through woods, bogs, roads, and streams,Has measured half the forest; but, alas!He flies in vain; he flies not from his fears.Though far he cast the lingering pack behind,His haggard fancy still, with horror, viewsThe fell destroyer; still the fatal cryInsults his ears, and wounds his trembling heart.So the poor fury-haunted wretch, his handsIn guiltless blood distain’d, still seems to hearThe dying shrieks; and the pale threatening ghostMoves as he moves, and, as he flies, pursues.See here, his slot; up yon green hill he climbs,Pants on its brow awhile; sadly looks backOn his pursuers, covering all the plain;But, wrung with anguish, bears not long the sight,Shoots down the steep, and sweats along the vale;There mingles with the herd, where once he reign’dProud monarch of the groves; whose clashing beam
BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 479-503.
His rivals awed, and whose exalted powerWas still rewarded with successful love.But the base herd have learn’d the ways of men;Averse they fly, or, with rebellious aim,Chase him from thence: needless their impious deed,The huntsman knows him by a thousand marks,Black, and imboss’d; nor are his hounds deceived;Too well distinguish these, and never leaveTheir once devoted foe: familiar growsHis scent, and strong their appetite to kill.Again he flies, and, with redoubled speed,Skims o’er the lawn; still the tenacious crewHang on the track, aloud demand their prey,And push him many a league. If haply thenToo far escaped, and the gay courtly trainBehind are cast, the huntsman’s clanging whipStops full their bold career: passive they stand,Unmoved, an humble, an obsequious crowd,As if, by stern Medusa, gazed to stones.So, at their general’s voice, whole armies halt,In full pursuit, and check their thirst of blood.Soon, at the king’s command, like hasty streamsDamm’d up a while, they foam, and pour alongWith fresh recruited might. The stag, who hopedHis foes were lost, now once more hears, astunn’d,
His rivals awed, and whose exalted powerWas still rewarded with successful love.But the base herd have learn’d the ways of men;Averse they fly, or, with rebellious aim,Chase him from thence: needless their impious deed,The huntsman knows him by a thousand marks,Black, and imboss’d; nor are his hounds deceived;Too well distinguish these, and never leaveTheir once devoted foe: familiar growsHis scent, and strong their appetite to kill.Again he flies, and, with redoubled speed,Skims o’er the lawn; still the tenacious crewHang on the track, aloud demand their prey,And push him many a league. If haply thenToo far escaped, and the gay courtly trainBehind are cast, the huntsman’s clanging whipStops full their bold career: passive they stand,Unmoved, an humble, an obsequious crowd,As if, by stern Medusa, gazed to stones.So, at their general’s voice, whole armies halt,In full pursuit, and check their thirst of blood.Soon, at the king’s command, like hasty streamsDamm’d up a while, they foam, and pour alongWith fresh recruited might. The stag, who hopedHis foes were lost, now once more hears, astunn’d,
His rivals awed, and whose exalted powerWas still rewarded with successful love.But the base herd have learn’d the ways of men;Averse they fly, or, with rebellious aim,Chase him from thence: needless their impious deed,The huntsman knows him by a thousand marks,Black, and imboss’d; nor are his hounds deceived;Too well distinguish these, and never leaveTheir once devoted foe: familiar growsHis scent, and strong their appetite to kill.Again he flies, and, with redoubled speed,Skims o’er the lawn; still the tenacious crewHang on the track, aloud demand their prey,And push him many a league. If haply thenToo far escaped, and the gay courtly trainBehind are cast, the huntsman’s clanging whipStops full their bold career: passive they stand,Unmoved, an humble, an obsequious crowd,As if, by stern Medusa, gazed to stones.So, at their general’s voice, whole armies halt,In full pursuit, and check their thirst of blood.Soon, at the king’s command, like hasty streamsDamm’d up a while, they foam, and pour alongWith fresh recruited might. The stag, who hopedHis foes were lost, now once more hears, astunn’d,
BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 504-528.
The dreadful din: he shivers every limb;He starts, he bounds; each bush presents a foe.Press’d by the fresh relay, no pause allow’d,Breathless and faint, he falters in his pace,And lifts his weary limbs with pain, that scarceSustain their load: he pants, he sobs, appall’d;Drops down his heavy head to earth, beneathHis cumbrous beams oppress’d. But if, perchance,Some prying eye surprise him, soon he rearsErect his towering front, bounds o’er the lawn,With ill-dissembled vigour, to amuseThe knowing forester; who inly smilesAt his weak shifts, and unavailing frauds.So midnight tapers waste their last remains,Shine forth a while, and, as they blaze, expire.From wood to wood redoubling thunders roll,And bellow through the vales; the moving stormThickens amain, and loud triumphant shouts,And horns, still warbling in each glade, preludeTo his approaching fate. And now, in view,With hobbling gait, and high, exerts, amazed,What strength is left: to the last dregs of lifeReduced, his spirits fail, on every sideHemm’d in, besieged; not the least opening leftTo gleaming hope, the unhappy’s last reserve.
The dreadful din: he shivers every limb;He starts, he bounds; each bush presents a foe.Press’d by the fresh relay, no pause allow’d,Breathless and faint, he falters in his pace,And lifts his weary limbs with pain, that scarceSustain their load: he pants, he sobs, appall’d;Drops down his heavy head to earth, beneathHis cumbrous beams oppress’d. But if, perchance,Some prying eye surprise him, soon he rearsErect his towering front, bounds o’er the lawn,With ill-dissembled vigour, to amuseThe knowing forester; who inly smilesAt his weak shifts, and unavailing frauds.So midnight tapers waste their last remains,Shine forth a while, and, as they blaze, expire.From wood to wood redoubling thunders roll,And bellow through the vales; the moving stormThickens amain, and loud triumphant shouts,And horns, still warbling in each glade, preludeTo his approaching fate. And now, in view,With hobbling gait, and high, exerts, amazed,What strength is left: to the last dregs of lifeReduced, his spirits fail, on every sideHemm’d in, besieged; not the least opening leftTo gleaming hope, the unhappy’s last reserve.
The dreadful din: he shivers every limb;He starts, he bounds; each bush presents a foe.Press’d by the fresh relay, no pause allow’d,Breathless and faint, he falters in his pace,And lifts his weary limbs with pain, that scarceSustain their load: he pants, he sobs, appall’d;Drops down his heavy head to earth, beneathHis cumbrous beams oppress’d. But if, perchance,Some prying eye surprise him, soon he rearsErect his towering front, bounds o’er the lawn,With ill-dissembled vigour, to amuseThe knowing forester; who inly smilesAt his weak shifts, and unavailing frauds.So midnight tapers waste their last remains,Shine forth a while, and, as they blaze, expire.From wood to wood redoubling thunders roll,And bellow through the vales; the moving stormThickens amain, and loud triumphant shouts,And horns, still warbling in each glade, preludeTo his approaching fate. And now, in view,With hobbling gait, and high, exerts, amazed,What strength is left: to the last dregs of lifeReduced, his spirits fail, on every sideHemm’d in, besieged; not the least opening leftTo gleaming hope, the unhappy’s last reserve.
BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 529-553.
Where shall he turn? or whither fly? DespairGives courage to the weak. Resolved to die,He fears no more, but rushes on his foes,And deals his deaths around; beneath his feetThese grovelling lie, those, by his antlers gored,Defile the ensanguined plain. Ah! see, distress’d,He stands at bay against yon knotty trunk,That covers well his rear, his front presentsAn host of foes. O shun, ye noble train,The rude encounter, and believe your livesYour country’s due alone. As now aloofThey wing around, he finds his soul upraised,To dare some great exploit; he charges homeUpon the broken pack, that, on each side,Fly diverse; then, as o’er the turf he strains,He vents the cooling stream, and, up the breeze,Urges his course with eager violence:Then takes the soil, and plunges in the floodPrecipitant; down the mid-stream he waftsAlong, till, like a ship distress’d, that runsInto some winding creek, close to the vergeOf a small island, for his weary feetSure anchorage he finds, there skulks, immersed;His nose, alone above the wave, draws inThe vital air; all else beneath the flood
Where shall he turn? or whither fly? DespairGives courage to the weak. Resolved to die,He fears no more, but rushes on his foes,And deals his deaths around; beneath his feetThese grovelling lie, those, by his antlers gored,Defile the ensanguined plain. Ah! see, distress’d,He stands at bay against yon knotty trunk,That covers well his rear, his front presentsAn host of foes. O shun, ye noble train,The rude encounter, and believe your livesYour country’s due alone. As now aloofThey wing around, he finds his soul upraised,To dare some great exploit; he charges homeUpon the broken pack, that, on each side,Fly diverse; then, as o’er the turf he strains,He vents the cooling stream, and, up the breeze,Urges his course with eager violence:Then takes the soil, and plunges in the floodPrecipitant; down the mid-stream he waftsAlong, till, like a ship distress’d, that runsInto some winding creek, close to the vergeOf a small island, for his weary feetSure anchorage he finds, there skulks, immersed;His nose, alone above the wave, draws inThe vital air; all else beneath the flood
Where shall he turn? or whither fly? DespairGives courage to the weak. Resolved to die,He fears no more, but rushes on his foes,And deals his deaths around; beneath his feetThese grovelling lie, those, by his antlers gored,Defile the ensanguined plain. Ah! see, distress’d,He stands at bay against yon knotty trunk,That covers well his rear, his front presentsAn host of foes. O shun, ye noble train,The rude encounter, and believe your livesYour country’s due alone. As now aloofThey wing around, he finds his soul upraised,To dare some great exploit; he charges homeUpon the broken pack, that, on each side,Fly diverse; then, as o’er the turf he strains,He vents the cooling stream, and, up the breeze,Urges his course with eager violence:Then takes the soil, and plunges in the floodPrecipitant; down the mid-stream he waftsAlong, till, like a ship distress’d, that runsInto some winding creek, close to the vergeOf a small island, for his weary feetSure anchorage he finds, there skulks, immersed;His nose, alone above the wave, draws inThe vital air; all else beneath the flood
BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 554-578.
Conceal’d, and lost, deceives each prying eyeOf man or brute. In vain the crowding packDraw on the margin of the stream, or cutThe liquid wave with oary feet, that moveIn equal time. The gliding waters leaveNo trace behind, and his contracted poresBut sparingly perspire: the huntsman strainsHis labouring lungs, and puffs his cheeks in vain.At length a blood-hound, bold, studious to kill,And exquisite of sense, winds him from far;Headlong he leaps into the flood, his mouthLoud-opening, spends amain, and his wide throatSwells every note with joy; then fearless divesBeneath the wave, hangs on his haunch, and woundsThe unhappy brute, that flounders in the stream,Sorely distress’d, and, struggling, strives to mountThe steepy shore. Haply once more escaped;Again he stands at bay, amid the grovesOf willows, bending low their downy heads.Outrageous transport fires the greedy pack;These swim the deep, and those crawl up with painThe slippery bank, while others on firm landEngage; the stag repels each bold assault,Maintains his post, and wounds for wounds returns.As when some wily corsair boards a ship
Conceal’d, and lost, deceives each prying eyeOf man or brute. In vain the crowding packDraw on the margin of the stream, or cutThe liquid wave with oary feet, that moveIn equal time. The gliding waters leaveNo trace behind, and his contracted poresBut sparingly perspire: the huntsman strainsHis labouring lungs, and puffs his cheeks in vain.At length a blood-hound, bold, studious to kill,And exquisite of sense, winds him from far;Headlong he leaps into the flood, his mouthLoud-opening, spends amain, and his wide throatSwells every note with joy; then fearless divesBeneath the wave, hangs on his haunch, and woundsThe unhappy brute, that flounders in the stream,Sorely distress’d, and, struggling, strives to mountThe steepy shore. Haply once more escaped;Again he stands at bay, amid the grovesOf willows, bending low their downy heads.Outrageous transport fires the greedy pack;These swim the deep, and those crawl up with painThe slippery bank, while others on firm landEngage; the stag repels each bold assault,Maintains his post, and wounds for wounds returns.As when some wily corsair boards a ship
Conceal’d, and lost, deceives each prying eyeOf man or brute. In vain the crowding packDraw on the margin of the stream, or cutThe liquid wave with oary feet, that moveIn equal time. The gliding waters leaveNo trace behind, and his contracted poresBut sparingly perspire: the huntsman strainsHis labouring lungs, and puffs his cheeks in vain.At length a blood-hound, bold, studious to kill,And exquisite of sense, winds him from far;Headlong he leaps into the flood, his mouthLoud-opening, spends amain, and his wide throatSwells every note with joy; then fearless divesBeneath the wave, hangs on his haunch, and woundsThe unhappy brute, that flounders in the stream,Sorely distress’d, and, struggling, strives to mountThe steepy shore. Haply once more escaped;Again he stands at bay, amid the grovesOf willows, bending low their downy heads.Outrageous transport fires the greedy pack;These swim the deep, and those crawl up with painThe slippery bank, while others on firm landEngage; the stag repels each bold assault,Maintains his post, and wounds for wounds returns.As when some wily corsair boards a ship
BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 579-602.
Full-freighted, or from Africk’s golden coasts,Or India’s wealthy strand, his bloody crewUpon her deck he slings; these in the deepDrop short, and swim to reach her steepy sides,And, clinging, climb aloft; while those, on board,Urge on the work of fate; the master bold,Press’d to his last retreat, bravely resolvesTo sink his wealth beneath the whelming wave,His wealth, his foes, nor unrevenged to die.So fares it with the stag; so he resolvesTo plunge at once into the flood below,Himself, his foes, in one deep gulf immersed.Ere yet he executes this dire intent,In wild disorder once more views the light;Beneath a weight of woe he groans distress’d:The tears run trickling down his hairy cheeks;He weeps, nor weeps in vain. The king beholdsHis wretched plight, and tenderness innateMoves his great soul. Soon, at his high command,Rebuked, the disappointed, hungry packRetire, submiss, and grumbling quit their prey.Great prince! from thee, what may thy subjects hope;So kind, and so beneficent to brutes?O mercy, heavenly born! sweet attribute!
Full-freighted, or from Africk’s golden coasts,Or India’s wealthy strand, his bloody crewUpon her deck he slings; these in the deepDrop short, and swim to reach her steepy sides,And, clinging, climb aloft; while those, on board,Urge on the work of fate; the master bold,Press’d to his last retreat, bravely resolvesTo sink his wealth beneath the whelming wave,His wealth, his foes, nor unrevenged to die.So fares it with the stag; so he resolvesTo plunge at once into the flood below,Himself, his foes, in one deep gulf immersed.Ere yet he executes this dire intent,In wild disorder once more views the light;Beneath a weight of woe he groans distress’d:The tears run trickling down his hairy cheeks;He weeps, nor weeps in vain. The king beholdsHis wretched plight, and tenderness innateMoves his great soul. Soon, at his high command,Rebuked, the disappointed, hungry packRetire, submiss, and grumbling quit their prey.Great prince! from thee, what may thy subjects hope;So kind, and so beneficent to brutes?O mercy, heavenly born! sweet attribute!
Full-freighted, or from Africk’s golden coasts,Or India’s wealthy strand, his bloody crewUpon her deck he slings; these in the deepDrop short, and swim to reach her steepy sides,And, clinging, climb aloft; while those, on board,Urge on the work of fate; the master bold,Press’d to his last retreat, bravely resolvesTo sink his wealth beneath the whelming wave,His wealth, his foes, nor unrevenged to die.So fares it with the stag; so he resolvesTo plunge at once into the flood below,Himself, his foes, in one deep gulf immersed.Ere yet he executes this dire intent,In wild disorder once more views the light;Beneath a weight of woe he groans distress’d:The tears run trickling down his hairy cheeks;He weeps, nor weeps in vain. The king beholdsHis wretched plight, and tenderness innateMoves his great soul. Soon, at his high command,Rebuked, the disappointed, hungry packRetire, submiss, and grumbling quit their prey.Great prince! from thee, what may thy subjects hope;So kind, and so beneficent to brutes?O mercy, heavenly born! sweet attribute!
BOOK IIITHE CHASE v. 603-608.
Thou great, thou best prerogative of power!Justice may guard the throne, but, join’d with thee,On rocks of adamant it stands secure,And braves the storm beneath; soon as thy smilesGild the rough deep, the foaming waves subside,And all the noisy tumult sinks in peace.
Thou great, thou best prerogative of power!Justice may guard the throne, but, join’d with thee,On rocks of adamant it stands secure,And braves the storm beneath; soon as thy smilesGild the rough deep, the foaming waves subside,And all the noisy tumult sinks in peace.
Thou great, thou best prerogative of power!Justice may guard the throne, but, join’d with thee,On rocks of adamant it stands secure,And braves the storm beneath; soon as thy smilesGild the rough deep, the foaming waves subside,And all the noisy tumult sinks in peace.
BOOK IVBOOK IV
Of the necessity of destroying some beasts, and preserving others, for the use of man. Of breeding of hounds; the season for this business. The choice of the dog, of great moment. Of the litter of whelps. Of the number to be reared. Of setting them out to their several walks. Care to be taken to prevent their hunting too soon. Of entering the whelps. Of breaking them from running at sheep. Of the diseases of hounds. Of their age. Of madness; two sorts of it described, the dumb, and outrageous madness: its dreadful effects. Burning of the wound recommended, as preventing all ill consequences. The infectious hounds to be separated, and fed apart. The vanity of trusting to the many infallible cures for this malady. The dismal effects of the biting of a mad dog, upon man, described. Description of the otter-hunting. The conclusion.
Whate’erof earth is form’d, to earth returns,Dissolved: the various objects we behold,Plants, animals, this whole material mass,Are ever changing, ever new: the soulOf man alone, that particle divine,Escapes the wreck of worlds, when all things fail.Hence great the distance ’twixt the beasts that perish,And God’s bright image, man’s immortal race.The brute creation are his property,Subservient to his will, and for him made.As hurtful, these he kills; as useful, thosePreserves; their sole and arbitrary king.Should he not kill, as erst the Samian sage
Whate’erof earth is form’d, to earth returns,Dissolved: the various objects we behold,Plants, animals, this whole material mass,Are ever changing, ever new: the soulOf man alone, that particle divine,Escapes the wreck of worlds, when all things fail.Hence great the distance ’twixt the beasts that perish,And God’s bright image, man’s immortal race.The brute creation are his property,Subservient to his will, and for him made.As hurtful, these he kills; as useful, thosePreserves; their sole and arbitrary king.Should he not kill, as erst the Samian sage
Whate’erof earth is form’d, to earth returns,Dissolved: the various objects we behold,Plants, animals, this whole material mass,Are ever changing, ever new: the soulOf man alone, that particle divine,Escapes the wreck of worlds, when all things fail.Hence great the distance ’twixt the beasts that perish,And God’s bright image, man’s immortal race.The brute creation are his property,Subservient to his will, and for him made.As hurtful, these he kills; as useful, thosePreserves; their sole and arbitrary king.Should he not kill, as erst the Samian sage
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 14-37.
Taught, unadvised, and Indian Brachmans nowAs vainly preach, the teeming ravenous brutesMight fill the scanty space of this terrene,Incumbering all the globe. Should not his careImprove his growing stock, their kinds might fail:Man might once more on roots and acorns feed;And through the deserts range, shivering, forlorn,Quite destitute of every solace dear,And every smiling gayety of life.The prudent huntsman, therefore, will supplyWith annual large recruits, his broken pack,And propagate their kind. As from the rootFresh scions still spring forth, and daily yieldNew blooming honours to the parent tree.Far shall his pack be famed, far sought his breed;And princes, at their tables, feast those houndsHis hand presents, an acceptable boon.Ere yet the sun through the bright ram has urgedHis steepy course, or mother earth unboundHer frozen bosom to the western gale;When feather’d troops, their social leagues dissolved,Select their mates, and on the leafless elmThe noisy rook builds high her wicker nest;Mark well the wanton females of thy pack,
Taught, unadvised, and Indian Brachmans nowAs vainly preach, the teeming ravenous brutesMight fill the scanty space of this terrene,Incumbering all the globe. Should not his careImprove his growing stock, their kinds might fail:Man might once more on roots and acorns feed;And through the deserts range, shivering, forlorn,Quite destitute of every solace dear,And every smiling gayety of life.The prudent huntsman, therefore, will supplyWith annual large recruits, his broken pack,And propagate their kind. As from the rootFresh scions still spring forth, and daily yieldNew blooming honours to the parent tree.Far shall his pack be famed, far sought his breed;And princes, at their tables, feast those houndsHis hand presents, an acceptable boon.Ere yet the sun through the bright ram has urgedHis steepy course, or mother earth unboundHer frozen bosom to the western gale;When feather’d troops, their social leagues dissolved,Select their mates, and on the leafless elmThe noisy rook builds high her wicker nest;Mark well the wanton females of thy pack,
Taught, unadvised, and Indian Brachmans nowAs vainly preach, the teeming ravenous brutesMight fill the scanty space of this terrene,Incumbering all the globe. Should not his careImprove his growing stock, their kinds might fail:Man might once more on roots and acorns feed;And through the deserts range, shivering, forlorn,Quite destitute of every solace dear,And every smiling gayety of life.The prudent huntsman, therefore, will supplyWith annual large recruits, his broken pack,And propagate their kind. As from the rootFresh scions still spring forth, and daily yieldNew blooming honours to the parent tree.Far shall his pack be famed, far sought his breed;And princes, at their tables, feast those houndsHis hand presents, an acceptable boon.Ere yet the sun through the bright ram has urgedHis steepy course, or mother earth unboundHer frozen bosom to the western gale;When feather’d troops, their social leagues dissolved,Select their mates, and on the leafless elmThe noisy rook builds high her wicker nest;Mark well the wanton females of thy pack,
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 38-62.
That curl their taper tails, and, frisking, courtTheir piebald mates enamour’d: their red eyesFlash fires impure; nor rest, nor food, they take,Goaded by furious love. In separate cellsConfine them now, lest bloody civil warsAnnoy thy peaceful state. If left at large,The growling rivals in dread battle join,And rude encounter. On Scamander’s streams,Heroes of old with far less fury fought,For the bright Spartan dame, their valour’s prize.Mangled and torn, thy favourite hounds shall lie,Stretch’d on the ground; thy kennel shall appearA field of blood: like some unhappy town,In civil broils confused, while discord shakesHer bloody scourge aloft, fierce parties rage,Staining their impious hands in mutual death.And still the best beloved, and bravest fall:Such are the dire effects of lawless love.Huntsman! these ills, by timely prudent care,Prevent: for every longing dame selectSome happy paramour; to him, alone,In leagues connubial join. Consider wellHis lineage; what his fathers did of old,Chiefs of the pack, and first to climb the rock,Or plunge into the deep, or thread the brake,
That curl their taper tails, and, frisking, courtTheir piebald mates enamour’d: their red eyesFlash fires impure; nor rest, nor food, they take,Goaded by furious love. In separate cellsConfine them now, lest bloody civil warsAnnoy thy peaceful state. If left at large,The growling rivals in dread battle join,And rude encounter. On Scamander’s streams,Heroes of old with far less fury fought,For the bright Spartan dame, their valour’s prize.Mangled and torn, thy favourite hounds shall lie,Stretch’d on the ground; thy kennel shall appearA field of blood: like some unhappy town,In civil broils confused, while discord shakesHer bloody scourge aloft, fierce parties rage,Staining their impious hands in mutual death.And still the best beloved, and bravest fall:Such are the dire effects of lawless love.Huntsman! these ills, by timely prudent care,Prevent: for every longing dame selectSome happy paramour; to him, alone,In leagues connubial join. Consider wellHis lineage; what his fathers did of old,Chiefs of the pack, and first to climb the rock,Or plunge into the deep, or thread the brake,
That curl their taper tails, and, frisking, courtTheir piebald mates enamour’d: their red eyesFlash fires impure; nor rest, nor food, they take,Goaded by furious love. In separate cellsConfine them now, lest bloody civil warsAnnoy thy peaceful state. If left at large,The growling rivals in dread battle join,And rude encounter. On Scamander’s streams,Heroes of old with far less fury fought,For the bright Spartan dame, their valour’s prize.Mangled and torn, thy favourite hounds shall lie,Stretch’d on the ground; thy kennel shall appearA field of blood: like some unhappy town,In civil broils confused, while discord shakesHer bloody scourge aloft, fierce parties rage,Staining their impious hands in mutual death.And still the best beloved, and bravest fall:Such are the dire effects of lawless love.Huntsman! these ills, by timely prudent care,Prevent: for every longing dame selectSome happy paramour; to him, alone,In leagues connubial join. Consider wellHis lineage; what his fathers did of old,Chiefs of the pack, and first to climb the rock,Or plunge into the deep, or thread the brake,
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 63-86.
With thorns sharp-pointed, plash’d, and briers in-woven.Observe with care, his shape, sort, colour, size.Nor will sagacious huntsmen less regardHis inward habits: the vain babbler shun,Ever loquacious, ever in the wrong.His foolish offspring shall offend thy earsWith false alarms, and loud impertinence.Nor less the shifting cur avoid, that breaksIllusive from the pack; to the next hedgeDevious he strays; there, every meuse he tries;If haply then he cross the steaming scent,Away he flies, vain-glorious; and exults,As of the pack supreme, and in his speedAnd strength unrivall’d. Lo! cast far behind,His vex’d associates pant, and, labouring, strainTo climb the steep ascent. Soon as they reachThe insulting boaster, his false courage fails,Behind he lags, doom’d to the fatal noose;His master’s hate, and scorn of all the field.What can from such be hoped, but a base broodOf coward curs, a frantick, vagrant race?When now the third revolving moon appears,With sharpen’d horns, above the horizon’s brink,Without Lucina’s aid, expect thy hopes
With thorns sharp-pointed, plash’d, and briers in-woven.Observe with care, his shape, sort, colour, size.Nor will sagacious huntsmen less regardHis inward habits: the vain babbler shun,Ever loquacious, ever in the wrong.His foolish offspring shall offend thy earsWith false alarms, and loud impertinence.Nor less the shifting cur avoid, that breaksIllusive from the pack; to the next hedgeDevious he strays; there, every meuse he tries;If haply then he cross the steaming scent,Away he flies, vain-glorious; and exults,As of the pack supreme, and in his speedAnd strength unrivall’d. Lo! cast far behind,His vex’d associates pant, and, labouring, strainTo climb the steep ascent. Soon as they reachThe insulting boaster, his false courage fails,Behind he lags, doom’d to the fatal noose;His master’s hate, and scorn of all the field.What can from such be hoped, but a base broodOf coward curs, a frantick, vagrant race?When now the third revolving moon appears,With sharpen’d horns, above the horizon’s brink,Without Lucina’s aid, expect thy hopes
With thorns sharp-pointed, plash’d, and briers in-woven.Observe with care, his shape, sort, colour, size.Nor will sagacious huntsmen less regardHis inward habits: the vain babbler shun,Ever loquacious, ever in the wrong.His foolish offspring shall offend thy earsWith false alarms, and loud impertinence.Nor less the shifting cur avoid, that breaksIllusive from the pack; to the next hedgeDevious he strays; there, every meuse he tries;If haply then he cross the steaming scent,Away he flies, vain-glorious; and exults,As of the pack supreme, and in his speedAnd strength unrivall’d. Lo! cast far behind,His vex’d associates pant, and, labouring, strainTo climb the steep ascent. Soon as they reachThe insulting boaster, his false courage fails,Behind he lags, doom’d to the fatal noose;His master’s hate, and scorn of all the field.What can from such be hoped, but a base broodOf coward curs, a frantick, vagrant race?When now the third revolving moon appears,With sharpen’d horns, above the horizon’s brink,Without Lucina’s aid, expect thy hopes
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 87-110.
Are amply crown’d: short pangs produce to lightThe smoking litter; crawling, helpless, blind,Nature their guide, they seek the pouting teat,That plenteous streams. Soon as the tender damHas form’d them with her tongue, with pleasure viewThe marks of their renown’d progenitors;Sure pledge of triumphs yet to come. All theseSelect with joy; but to the merciless floodExpose the dwindling refuse, nor o’erloadThe indulgent mother. If thy heart relent,Unwilling to destroy, a nurse provide,And to the foster-parent give the careOf thy superfluous brood: she’ll cherish kindThe alien offspring; pleased, thou shalt beholdHer tenderness, and hospitable love.If frolick now, and playful, they desertTheir gloomy cell, and on the verdant turf,With nerves improved, pursue the mimick chase,Coursing around; unto thy choicest friendsCommit thy valued prize. The rustick damesShall at thy kennel wait, and in their lapsReceive thy growing hopes; with many a kissCaress, and dignify their little chargeWith some great title, and resounding name
Are amply crown’d: short pangs produce to lightThe smoking litter; crawling, helpless, blind,Nature their guide, they seek the pouting teat,That plenteous streams. Soon as the tender damHas form’d them with her tongue, with pleasure viewThe marks of their renown’d progenitors;Sure pledge of triumphs yet to come. All theseSelect with joy; but to the merciless floodExpose the dwindling refuse, nor o’erloadThe indulgent mother. If thy heart relent,Unwilling to destroy, a nurse provide,And to the foster-parent give the careOf thy superfluous brood: she’ll cherish kindThe alien offspring; pleased, thou shalt beholdHer tenderness, and hospitable love.If frolick now, and playful, they desertTheir gloomy cell, and on the verdant turf,With nerves improved, pursue the mimick chase,Coursing around; unto thy choicest friendsCommit thy valued prize. The rustick damesShall at thy kennel wait, and in their lapsReceive thy growing hopes; with many a kissCaress, and dignify their little chargeWith some great title, and resounding name
Are amply crown’d: short pangs produce to lightThe smoking litter; crawling, helpless, blind,Nature their guide, they seek the pouting teat,That plenteous streams. Soon as the tender damHas form’d them with her tongue, with pleasure viewThe marks of their renown’d progenitors;Sure pledge of triumphs yet to come. All theseSelect with joy; but to the merciless floodExpose the dwindling refuse, nor o’erloadThe indulgent mother. If thy heart relent,Unwilling to destroy, a nurse provide,And to the foster-parent give the careOf thy superfluous brood: she’ll cherish kindThe alien offspring; pleased, thou shalt beholdHer tenderness, and hospitable love.If frolick now, and playful, they desertTheir gloomy cell, and on the verdant turf,With nerves improved, pursue the mimick chase,Coursing around; unto thy choicest friendsCommit thy valued prize. The rustick damesShall at thy kennel wait, and in their lapsReceive thy growing hopes; with many a kissCaress, and dignify their little chargeWith some great title, and resounding name
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 111-135.
Of high import. But, cautious, here observeTo check their youthful ardour, nor permitThe unexperienced younker, immature,Alone to range the woods, or haunt the brakes,Where dodging conies sport: his nerves unstrung,And strength unequal, the laborious chaseShall stint his growth, and his rash forward youthContract such vicious habits, as thy care,And late correction, never shall reclaim.When to full strength arrived, mature and bold,Conduct them to the field; not all at once,But as thy cooler prudence shall direct,Select a few, and form them, by degrees,To stricter discipline. With these, consortThe stanch and steady sages of the pack,By long experience versed in all the wiles,And subtle doublings, of the various chase.Easy the lesson of the youthful train,When instinct prompts, and when example guides.If the too forward younker, at the head,Press boldly on, in wanton sportive mood,Correct his haste, and let him feel, abash’d,The ruling whip. But if he stoop behind,In wary modest guise, to his own noseConfiding sure, give him full scope to work
Of high import. But, cautious, here observeTo check their youthful ardour, nor permitThe unexperienced younker, immature,Alone to range the woods, or haunt the brakes,Where dodging conies sport: his nerves unstrung,And strength unequal, the laborious chaseShall stint his growth, and his rash forward youthContract such vicious habits, as thy care,And late correction, never shall reclaim.When to full strength arrived, mature and bold,Conduct them to the field; not all at once,But as thy cooler prudence shall direct,Select a few, and form them, by degrees,To stricter discipline. With these, consortThe stanch and steady sages of the pack,By long experience versed in all the wiles,And subtle doublings, of the various chase.Easy the lesson of the youthful train,When instinct prompts, and when example guides.If the too forward younker, at the head,Press boldly on, in wanton sportive mood,Correct his haste, and let him feel, abash’d,The ruling whip. But if he stoop behind,In wary modest guise, to his own noseConfiding sure, give him full scope to work
Of high import. But, cautious, here observeTo check their youthful ardour, nor permitThe unexperienced younker, immature,Alone to range the woods, or haunt the brakes,Where dodging conies sport: his nerves unstrung,And strength unequal, the laborious chaseShall stint his growth, and his rash forward youthContract such vicious habits, as thy care,And late correction, never shall reclaim.When to full strength arrived, mature and bold,Conduct them to the field; not all at once,But as thy cooler prudence shall direct,Select a few, and form them, by degrees,To stricter discipline. With these, consortThe stanch and steady sages of the pack,By long experience versed in all the wiles,And subtle doublings, of the various chase.Easy the lesson of the youthful train,When instinct prompts, and when example guides.If the too forward younker, at the head,Press boldly on, in wanton sportive mood,Correct his haste, and let him feel, abash’d,The ruling whip. But if he stoop behind,In wary modest guise, to his own noseConfiding sure, give him full scope to work
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 136-160.
His winding way, and with thy voice applaudHis patience and his care; soon shalt thou viewThe hopeful pupil leader of his tribe,And all the listening pack attend his call.Oft lead them forth where wanton lambkins play,And bleating dams, with jealous eyes, observeTheir tender care. If at the crowding flockHe bay presumptuous, or with eager hastePursue them, scatter’d o’er the verdant plain,In the foul fact attach’d, to the strong ramTie fast the rash offender. See! at first,His horn’d companion, fearful and amazed,Shall drag him, trembling, o’er the rugged ground,Then with his load fatigued, shall turn a-head,And, with his curl’d hard front, incessant pealThe panting wretch; till, breathless and astunn’d,Stretch’d on the turf he lie. Then spare not thouThe twining whip, but ply his bleeding sides,Lash after lash; and with thy threatening voice,Harsh echoing from the hills, inculcate loudHis vile offence. Sooner shall trembling doves,Escaped the hawk’s sharp talons, in mid air,Assail their dangerous foe, than he once moreDisturb the peaceful flocks. In tender age,Thus youth is train’d; as curious artists bend
His winding way, and with thy voice applaudHis patience and his care; soon shalt thou viewThe hopeful pupil leader of his tribe,And all the listening pack attend his call.Oft lead them forth where wanton lambkins play,And bleating dams, with jealous eyes, observeTheir tender care. If at the crowding flockHe bay presumptuous, or with eager hastePursue them, scatter’d o’er the verdant plain,In the foul fact attach’d, to the strong ramTie fast the rash offender. See! at first,His horn’d companion, fearful and amazed,Shall drag him, trembling, o’er the rugged ground,Then with his load fatigued, shall turn a-head,And, with his curl’d hard front, incessant pealThe panting wretch; till, breathless and astunn’d,Stretch’d on the turf he lie. Then spare not thouThe twining whip, but ply his bleeding sides,Lash after lash; and with thy threatening voice,Harsh echoing from the hills, inculcate loudHis vile offence. Sooner shall trembling doves,Escaped the hawk’s sharp talons, in mid air,Assail their dangerous foe, than he once moreDisturb the peaceful flocks. In tender age,Thus youth is train’d; as curious artists bend
His winding way, and with thy voice applaudHis patience and his care; soon shalt thou viewThe hopeful pupil leader of his tribe,And all the listening pack attend his call.Oft lead them forth where wanton lambkins play,And bleating dams, with jealous eyes, observeTheir tender care. If at the crowding flockHe bay presumptuous, or with eager hastePursue them, scatter’d o’er the verdant plain,In the foul fact attach’d, to the strong ramTie fast the rash offender. See! at first,His horn’d companion, fearful and amazed,Shall drag him, trembling, o’er the rugged ground,Then with his load fatigued, shall turn a-head,And, with his curl’d hard front, incessant pealThe panting wretch; till, breathless and astunn’d,Stretch’d on the turf he lie. Then spare not thouThe twining whip, but ply his bleeding sides,Lash after lash; and with thy threatening voice,Harsh echoing from the hills, inculcate loudHis vile offence. Sooner shall trembling doves,Escaped the hawk’s sharp talons, in mid air,Assail their dangerous foe, than he once moreDisturb the peaceful flocks. In tender age,Thus youth is train’d; as curious artists bend
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 161-184.
The taper pliant twig, or potters formTheir soft and ductile clay to various shapes.Nor is’t enough to breed, but to preserveMust be the huntsman’s care. The stanch old hounds,Guides of thy pack, though but in number few,Are yet of great account; shall oft untieThe Gordian knot, when reason at a stand,Puzzling, is lost, and all thy art is vain.O’er clogging fallows, o’er dry plaster’d roads,O’er floated meads, o’er plains with flocks distain’d,Rank scenting, these must lead the dubious way.As party chiefs, in senates who preside,With pleaded reason, and with well-turn’d speech,Conduct the staring multitude; so theseDirect the pack, who with joint cry approve,And loudly boast discoveries not their own.Unnumber’d accidents, and various ills,Attend thy pack, hang hovering o’er their heads,And point the way that leads to death’s dark cave.Short is their span; few at the date arriveOf ancient Argus, in old Homer’s songSo highly honour’d: kind, sagacious brute!Not even Minerva’s wisdom could concealThy much-loved master, from thy nicer sense.
The taper pliant twig, or potters formTheir soft and ductile clay to various shapes.Nor is’t enough to breed, but to preserveMust be the huntsman’s care. The stanch old hounds,Guides of thy pack, though but in number few,Are yet of great account; shall oft untieThe Gordian knot, when reason at a stand,Puzzling, is lost, and all thy art is vain.O’er clogging fallows, o’er dry plaster’d roads,O’er floated meads, o’er plains with flocks distain’d,Rank scenting, these must lead the dubious way.As party chiefs, in senates who preside,With pleaded reason, and with well-turn’d speech,Conduct the staring multitude; so theseDirect the pack, who with joint cry approve,And loudly boast discoveries not their own.Unnumber’d accidents, and various ills,Attend thy pack, hang hovering o’er their heads,And point the way that leads to death’s dark cave.Short is their span; few at the date arriveOf ancient Argus, in old Homer’s songSo highly honour’d: kind, sagacious brute!Not even Minerva’s wisdom could concealThy much-loved master, from thy nicer sense.
The taper pliant twig, or potters formTheir soft and ductile clay to various shapes.Nor is’t enough to breed, but to preserveMust be the huntsman’s care. The stanch old hounds,Guides of thy pack, though but in number few,Are yet of great account; shall oft untieThe Gordian knot, when reason at a stand,Puzzling, is lost, and all thy art is vain.O’er clogging fallows, o’er dry plaster’d roads,O’er floated meads, o’er plains with flocks distain’d,Rank scenting, these must lead the dubious way.As party chiefs, in senates who preside,With pleaded reason, and with well-turn’d speech,Conduct the staring multitude; so theseDirect the pack, who with joint cry approve,And loudly boast discoveries not their own.Unnumber’d accidents, and various ills,Attend thy pack, hang hovering o’er their heads,And point the way that leads to death’s dark cave.Short is their span; few at the date arriveOf ancient Argus, in old Homer’s songSo highly honour’d: kind, sagacious brute!Not even Minerva’s wisdom could concealThy much-loved master, from thy nicer sense.
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 185-209.
Dying, his lord he own’d; view’d him all o’erWith eager eyes, then closed those eyes, well pleased.Of lesser ills the Muse declines to sing,Nor stoops so low; of these, each groom can tellThe proper remedy. But oh! what care,What prudence, can prevent madness, the worstOf maladies? Terrifick pest! that blastsThe huntsman’s hopes, and desolation spreadsThrough all the unpeopled kennel, unrestrain’d;More fatal than the envenom’d viper’s bite,Or that Apulian spider’s poisonous sting,Heal’d by the pleasing antidote of sounds.When Sirius reigns, and the sun’s parching beamsBake the dry gaping surface, visit thouEach even and morn, with quick observant eye,Thy panting pack. If, in dark sullen mood,The glouting hound refuse his wonted meal,Retiring to some close obscure retreat,Gloomy, disconsolate; with speed removeThe poor infectious wretch, and in strong chainsBind him, suspected. Thus that dire disease,Which art can’t cure, wise caution may prevent.But, this neglected, soon expect a change,A dismal change, confusion, frenzy, death!Or, in some dark recess, the senseless brute
Dying, his lord he own’d; view’d him all o’erWith eager eyes, then closed those eyes, well pleased.Of lesser ills the Muse declines to sing,Nor stoops so low; of these, each groom can tellThe proper remedy. But oh! what care,What prudence, can prevent madness, the worstOf maladies? Terrifick pest! that blastsThe huntsman’s hopes, and desolation spreadsThrough all the unpeopled kennel, unrestrain’d;More fatal than the envenom’d viper’s bite,Or that Apulian spider’s poisonous sting,Heal’d by the pleasing antidote of sounds.When Sirius reigns, and the sun’s parching beamsBake the dry gaping surface, visit thouEach even and morn, with quick observant eye,Thy panting pack. If, in dark sullen mood,The glouting hound refuse his wonted meal,Retiring to some close obscure retreat,Gloomy, disconsolate; with speed removeThe poor infectious wretch, and in strong chainsBind him, suspected. Thus that dire disease,Which art can’t cure, wise caution may prevent.But, this neglected, soon expect a change,A dismal change, confusion, frenzy, death!Or, in some dark recess, the senseless brute
Dying, his lord he own’d; view’d him all o’erWith eager eyes, then closed those eyes, well pleased.Of lesser ills the Muse declines to sing,Nor stoops so low; of these, each groom can tellThe proper remedy. But oh! what care,What prudence, can prevent madness, the worstOf maladies? Terrifick pest! that blastsThe huntsman’s hopes, and desolation spreadsThrough all the unpeopled kennel, unrestrain’d;More fatal than the envenom’d viper’s bite,Or that Apulian spider’s poisonous sting,Heal’d by the pleasing antidote of sounds.When Sirius reigns, and the sun’s parching beamsBake the dry gaping surface, visit thouEach even and morn, with quick observant eye,Thy panting pack. If, in dark sullen mood,The glouting hound refuse his wonted meal,Retiring to some close obscure retreat,Gloomy, disconsolate; with speed removeThe poor infectious wretch, and in strong chainsBind him, suspected. Thus that dire disease,Which art can’t cure, wise caution may prevent.But, this neglected, soon expect a change,A dismal change, confusion, frenzy, death!Or, in some dark recess, the senseless brute
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 210-234.
Sits, sadly pining; deep melancholy,And black despair, upon his clouded browHang lowering; from his half-opening jaws,The clammy venom, and infectious froth,Distilling fall; and from his lungs, inflamed,Malignant vapours taint the ambient air,Breathing perdition; his dim eyes are glazed,He droops his pensive head; his trembling limbsNo more support his weight; abject he lies,Dumb, spiritless, benumb’d; till death, at last,Gracious attends, and kindly brings relief.Or, if outrageous grown, behold, alas!A yet more dreadful scene; his glaring eyesRedden with fury; like some angry boar,Churning, he foams, and, on his back, erectHis pointed bristles rise; his tail incurvedHe drops; and, with harsh broken howlings, rendsThe poison-tainted air; with rough hoarse voiceIncessant bays, and snuffs the infectious breeze;This way and that he stares, aghast, and startsAt his own shade; jealous, as if he deem’dThe world his foes. If haply toward the streamHe cast his roving eye, cold horrour chillsHis soul; averse, he flies, trembling, appall’d:Now frantick, to the kennel’s utmost verge,
Sits, sadly pining; deep melancholy,And black despair, upon his clouded browHang lowering; from his half-opening jaws,The clammy venom, and infectious froth,Distilling fall; and from his lungs, inflamed,Malignant vapours taint the ambient air,Breathing perdition; his dim eyes are glazed,He droops his pensive head; his trembling limbsNo more support his weight; abject he lies,Dumb, spiritless, benumb’d; till death, at last,Gracious attends, and kindly brings relief.Or, if outrageous grown, behold, alas!A yet more dreadful scene; his glaring eyesRedden with fury; like some angry boar,Churning, he foams, and, on his back, erectHis pointed bristles rise; his tail incurvedHe drops; and, with harsh broken howlings, rendsThe poison-tainted air; with rough hoarse voiceIncessant bays, and snuffs the infectious breeze;This way and that he stares, aghast, and startsAt his own shade; jealous, as if he deem’dThe world his foes. If haply toward the streamHe cast his roving eye, cold horrour chillsHis soul; averse, he flies, trembling, appall’d:Now frantick, to the kennel’s utmost verge,
Sits, sadly pining; deep melancholy,And black despair, upon his clouded browHang lowering; from his half-opening jaws,The clammy venom, and infectious froth,Distilling fall; and from his lungs, inflamed,Malignant vapours taint the ambient air,Breathing perdition; his dim eyes are glazed,He droops his pensive head; his trembling limbsNo more support his weight; abject he lies,Dumb, spiritless, benumb’d; till death, at last,Gracious attends, and kindly brings relief.Or, if outrageous grown, behold, alas!A yet more dreadful scene; his glaring eyesRedden with fury; like some angry boar,Churning, he foams, and, on his back, erectHis pointed bristles rise; his tail incurvedHe drops; and, with harsh broken howlings, rendsThe poison-tainted air; with rough hoarse voiceIncessant bays, and snuffs the infectious breeze;This way and that he stares, aghast, and startsAt his own shade; jealous, as if he deem’dThe world his foes. If haply toward the streamHe cast his roving eye, cold horrour chillsHis soul; averse, he flies, trembling, appall’d:Now frantick, to the kennel’s utmost verge,
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 235-259.
Raving, he runs, and deals destruction round.The pack fly diverse; for whate’er he meets,Vengeful, he bites, and every bite is death.If now, perchance, through the weak fence escaped,Far up the wind he roves, with open mouthInhales the cooling breeze, nor man, nor beast,He spares, implacable. The hunter-horse,Once kind associate of his sylvan toils,Who haply, now, without the kennel’s mound,Crops the rank mead, and, listening, hears with joyThe cheering cry, that morn and eve salutesHis raptured sense, a wretched victim falls.Unhappy quadruped! no more, alas!Shall thy fond master with his voice applaudThy gentleness, thy speed; or with his handStroke thy soft dappled sides, as he each dayVisits thy stall, well pleased: no more shalt thouWith sprightly neighings, to the winding hornAnd the loud-opening pack, in concert join’d,Glad his proud heart; for, oh! the secret wound,Rankling, inflames; he bites the ground, and dies.Hence to the village, with pernicious haste,Baleful, he bends his course: the village flies,Alarm’d; the tender mother, in her arms,Hugs close the trembling babe; the doors are barr’d;
Raving, he runs, and deals destruction round.The pack fly diverse; for whate’er he meets,Vengeful, he bites, and every bite is death.If now, perchance, through the weak fence escaped,Far up the wind he roves, with open mouthInhales the cooling breeze, nor man, nor beast,He spares, implacable. The hunter-horse,Once kind associate of his sylvan toils,Who haply, now, without the kennel’s mound,Crops the rank mead, and, listening, hears with joyThe cheering cry, that morn and eve salutesHis raptured sense, a wretched victim falls.Unhappy quadruped! no more, alas!Shall thy fond master with his voice applaudThy gentleness, thy speed; or with his handStroke thy soft dappled sides, as he each dayVisits thy stall, well pleased: no more shalt thouWith sprightly neighings, to the winding hornAnd the loud-opening pack, in concert join’d,Glad his proud heart; for, oh! the secret wound,Rankling, inflames; he bites the ground, and dies.Hence to the village, with pernicious haste,Baleful, he bends his course: the village flies,Alarm’d; the tender mother, in her arms,Hugs close the trembling babe; the doors are barr’d;
Raving, he runs, and deals destruction round.The pack fly diverse; for whate’er he meets,Vengeful, he bites, and every bite is death.If now, perchance, through the weak fence escaped,Far up the wind he roves, with open mouthInhales the cooling breeze, nor man, nor beast,He spares, implacable. The hunter-horse,Once kind associate of his sylvan toils,Who haply, now, without the kennel’s mound,Crops the rank mead, and, listening, hears with joyThe cheering cry, that morn and eve salutesHis raptured sense, a wretched victim falls.Unhappy quadruped! no more, alas!Shall thy fond master with his voice applaudThy gentleness, thy speed; or with his handStroke thy soft dappled sides, as he each dayVisits thy stall, well pleased: no more shalt thouWith sprightly neighings, to the winding hornAnd the loud-opening pack, in concert join’d,Glad his proud heart; for, oh! the secret wound,Rankling, inflames; he bites the ground, and dies.Hence to the village, with pernicious haste,Baleful, he bends his course: the village flies,Alarm’d; the tender mother, in her arms,Hugs close the trembling babe; the doors are barr’d;
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 260-282.
And flying curs, by native instinct taught,Shun the contagious bane; the rustick bandsHurry to arms, the rude militia seizeWhate’er at hand they find; clubs, forks, or guns,From every quarter charge the furious foe,In wild disorder and uncouth array;Till now, with wounds on wounds, oppress’d and gored,At one short poisonous gasp he breathes his last.Hence, to the kennel, Muse, return, and view,With heavy heart, that hospital of woe,Where horrour stalks at large! insatiate deathSits growling o’er his prey; each hour presentsA different scene of ruin and distress.How busy art thou, fate! and how severeThy pointed wrath! the dying and the deadPromiscuous lie; o’er these, the living fightIn one eternal broil; not conscious why,Nor yet with whom. So drunkards, in their cups,Spare not their friends, while senseless squabble reigns.Huntsman! it much behoves thee to avoidThe perilous debate. Ah! rouse up allThy vigilance, and tread the treacherous groundWith careful step. Thy fires unquench’d preserve,
And flying curs, by native instinct taught,Shun the contagious bane; the rustick bandsHurry to arms, the rude militia seizeWhate’er at hand they find; clubs, forks, or guns,From every quarter charge the furious foe,In wild disorder and uncouth array;Till now, with wounds on wounds, oppress’d and gored,At one short poisonous gasp he breathes his last.Hence, to the kennel, Muse, return, and view,With heavy heart, that hospital of woe,Where horrour stalks at large! insatiate deathSits growling o’er his prey; each hour presentsA different scene of ruin and distress.How busy art thou, fate! and how severeThy pointed wrath! the dying and the deadPromiscuous lie; o’er these, the living fightIn one eternal broil; not conscious why,Nor yet with whom. So drunkards, in their cups,Spare not their friends, while senseless squabble reigns.Huntsman! it much behoves thee to avoidThe perilous debate. Ah! rouse up allThy vigilance, and tread the treacherous groundWith careful step. Thy fires unquench’d preserve,
And flying curs, by native instinct taught,Shun the contagious bane; the rustick bandsHurry to arms, the rude militia seizeWhate’er at hand they find; clubs, forks, or guns,From every quarter charge the furious foe,In wild disorder and uncouth array;Till now, with wounds on wounds, oppress’d and gored,At one short poisonous gasp he breathes his last.Hence, to the kennel, Muse, return, and view,With heavy heart, that hospital of woe,Where horrour stalks at large! insatiate deathSits growling o’er his prey; each hour presentsA different scene of ruin and distress.How busy art thou, fate! and how severeThy pointed wrath! the dying and the deadPromiscuous lie; o’er these, the living fightIn one eternal broil; not conscious why,Nor yet with whom. So drunkards, in their cups,Spare not their friends, while senseless squabble reigns.Huntsman! it much behoves thee to avoidThe perilous debate. Ah! rouse up allThy vigilance, and tread the treacherous groundWith careful step. Thy fires unquench’d preserve,
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 283-307.
As erst the vestal flame; the pointed steelIn the hot embers hide; and if, surprised,Thou feel’st the deadly bite, quick urge it homeInto the recent sore, and cauterizeThe wound: spare not thy flesh, nor dread the event;Vulcan shall save, when Æsculapius fails.Here, should the knowing Muse recount the meansTo stop this growing plague. And here, alas!Each hand presents a sovereign cure, and boastsInfallibility, but boasts in vain.On this depend; each to his separate seatConfine, in fetters bound; give each his messApart, his range in open air; and then,If deadly symptoms, to thy grief, appear,Devote the wretch; and let him greatly fall,A generous victim for the public weal.Sing, philosophick Muse, the dire effectsOf this contagious bite on hapless man!The rustick swains, by long tradition taught,Of leeches old, as soon as they perceiveThe bite impress’d, to the sea-coasts repair.Plunged in the briny flood, the unhappy youthNow journeys home, secure; but soon shall wishThe seas, as yet, had cover’d him beneathThe foaming surge, full many a fathom deep.
As erst the vestal flame; the pointed steelIn the hot embers hide; and if, surprised,Thou feel’st the deadly bite, quick urge it homeInto the recent sore, and cauterizeThe wound: spare not thy flesh, nor dread the event;Vulcan shall save, when Æsculapius fails.Here, should the knowing Muse recount the meansTo stop this growing plague. And here, alas!Each hand presents a sovereign cure, and boastsInfallibility, but boasts in vain.On this depend; each to his separate seatConfine, in fetters bound; give each his messApart, his range in open air; and then,If deadly symptoms, to thy grief, appear,Devote the wretch; and let him greatly fall,A generous victim for the public weal.Sing, philosophick Muse, the dire effectsOf this contagious bite on hapless man!The rustick swains, by long tradition taught,Of leeches old, as soon as they perceiveThe bite impress’d, to the sea-coasts repair.Plunged in the briny flood, the unhappy youthNow journeys home, secure; but soon shall wishThe seas, as yet, had cover’d him beneathThe foaming surge, full many a fathom deep.
As erst the vestal flame; the pointed steelIn the hot embers hide; and if, surprised,Thou feel’st the deadly bite, quick urge it homeInto the recent sore, and cauterizeThe wound: spare not thy flesh, nor dread the event;Vulcan shall save, when Æsculapius fails.Here, should the knowing Muse recount the meansTo stop this growing plague. And here, alas!Each hand presents a sovereign cure, and boastsInfallibility, but boasts in vain.On this depend; each to his separate seatConfine, in fetters bound; give each his messApart, his range in open air; and then,If deadly symptoms, to thy grief, appear,Devote the wretch; and let him greatly fall,A generous victim for the public weal.Sing, philosophick Muse, the dire effectsOf this contagious bite on hapless man!The rustick swains, by long tradition taught,Of leeches old, as soon as they perceiveThe bite impress’d, to the sea-coasts repair.Plunged in the briny flood, the unhappy youthNow journeys home, secure; but soon shall wishThe seas, as yet, had cover’d him beneathThe foaming surge, full many a fathom deep.
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 308-332.
A fate more dismal, and superiour ills,Hang o’er his head devoted. When the moon,Closing her monthly round, returns againTo glad the night, or when, full-orb’d, she shinesHigh in the vault of heaven, the lurking pestBegins the dire assault. The poisonous foam,Through the deep wound instill’d, with hostile rage,And all its fiery particles, saline,Invades the arterial fluid; whose red wavesTempestuous heave, and, their cohesion broke,Fermenting boil; intestine war ensues,And order to confusion turns, embroil’d.Now the distended vessels scarce containThe wild uproar, but press each weaker part,Unable to resist: the tender brainAnd stomach suffer most; convulsions shakeHis trembling nerves, and wandering pungent painsPinch sore the sleepless wretch; his fluttering pulseOft intermits; pensive and sad, he mournsHis cruel fate, and to his weeping friendsLaments in vain: to hasty anger prone,Resents each slight offence, walks with quick step,And wildly stares: at last, with boundless sway,The tyrant frenzy reigns; for, as the dog,Whose fatal bite convey’d the infectious bane,
A fate more dismal, and superiour ills,Hang o’er his head devoted. When the moon,Closing her monthly round, returns againTo glad the night, or when, full-orb’d, she shinesHigh in the vault of heaven, the lurking pestBegins the dire assault. The poisonous foam,Through the deep wound instill’d, with hostile rage,And all its fiery particles, saline,Invades the arterial fluid; whose red wavesTempestuous heave, and, their cohesion broke,Fermenting boil; intestine war ensues,And order to confusion turns, embroil’d.Now the distended vessels scarce containThe wild uproar, but press each weaker part,Unable to resist: the tender brainAnd stomach suffer most; convulsions shakeHis trembling nerves, and wandering pungent painsPinch sore the sleepless wretch; his fluttering pulseOft intermits; pensive and sad, he mournsHis cruel fate, and to his weeping friendsLaments in vain: to hasty anger prone,Resents each slight offence, walks with quick step,And wildly stares: at last, with boundless sway,The tyrant frenzy reigns; for, as the dog,Whose fatal bite convey’d the infectious bane,
A fate more dismal, and superiour ills,Hang o’er his head devoted. When the moon,Closing her monthly round, returns againTo glad the night, or when, full-orb’d, she shinesHigh in the vault of heaven, the lurking pestBegins the dire assault. The poisonous foam,Through the deep wound instill’d, with hostile rage,And all its fiery particles, saline,Invades the arterial fluid; whose red wavesTempestuous heave, and, their cohesion broke,Fermenting boil; intestine war ensues,And order to confusion turns, embroil’d.Now the distended vessels scarce containThe wild uproar, but press each weaker part,Unable to resist: the tender brainAnd stomach suffer most; convulsions shakeHis trembling nerves, and wandering pungent painsPinch sore the sleepless wretch; his fluttering pulseOft intermits; pensive and sad, he mournsHis cruel fate, and to his weeping friendsLaments in vain: to hasty anger prone,Resents each slight offence, walks with quick step,And wildly stares: at last, with boundless sway,The tyrant frenzy reigns; for, as the dog,Whose fatal bite convey’d the infectious bane,
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 333-356.
Raving, he foams, and howls, and barks, and bites!Like agitations in his boiling blood,Present like species to his troubled mind;His nature, and his actions, all canine.So, as old Homer sung, the associates wildOf wandering Ithacus, by Circe’s charmsTo swine transformed, ran gruntling through the groves,Dreadful example to a wicked world!See, there distress’d he lies! parch’d up with thirst,But dares not drink; till now, at last, his soulTrembling escapes, her noisome dungeon leaves,And to some purer region wings away.One labour yet remains, celestial Maid!Another element demands thy song.No more o’er craggy steeps, through coverts thickWith pointed thorn, and briers intricate,Urge on, with horn and voice, the painful pack;But skim, with wanton wing, the irriguous vale,Where winding streams, amid the flowery meads,Perpetual glide along, and undermineThe cavern’d banks, by the tenacious rootsOf hoary willows arch’d; gloomy retreatOf the bright scaly kind; where they, at will,On the green watery reed, their pasture, graze,
Raving, he foams, and howls, and barks, and bites!Like agitations in his boiling blood,Present like species to his troubled mind;His nature, and his actions, all canine.So, as old Homer sung, the associates wildOf wandering Ithacus, by Circe’s charmsTo swine transformed, ran gruntling through the groves,Dreadful example to a wicked world!See, there distress’d he lies! parch’d up with thirst,But dares not drink; till now, at last, his soulTrembling escapes, her noisome dungeon leaves,And to some purer region wings away.One labour yet remains, celestial Maid!Another element demands thy song.No more o’er craggy steeps, through coverts thickWith pointed thorn, and briers intricate,Urge on, with horn and voice, the painful pack;But skim, with wanton wing, the irriguous vale,Where winding streams, amid the flowery meads,Perpetual glide along, and undermineThe cavern’d banks, by the tenacious rootsOf hoary willows arch’d; gloomy retreatOf the bright scaly kind; where they, at will,On the green watery reed, their pasture, graze,
Raving, he foams, and howls, and barks, and bites!Like agitations in his boiling blood,Present like species to his troubled mind;His nature, and his actions, all canine.So, as old Homer sung, the associates wildOf wandering Ithacus, by Circe’s charmsTo swine transformed, ran gruntling through the groves,Dreadful example to a wicked world!See, there distress’d he lies! parch’d up with thirst,But dares not drink; till now, at last, his soulTrembling escapes, her noisome dungeon leaves,And to some purer region wings away.One labour yet remains, celestial Maid!Another element demands thy song.No more o’er craggy steeps, through coverts thickWith pointed thorn, and briers intricate,Urge on, with horn and voice, the painful pack;But skim, with wanton wing, the irriguous vale,Where winding streams, amid the flowery meads,Perpetual glide along, and undermineThe cavern’d banks, by the tenacious rootsOf hoary willows arch’d; gloomy retreatOf the bright scaly kind; where they, at will,On the green watery reed, their pasture, graze,