BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 357-381.
Suck the moist soil, or slumber at their ease,Rock’d by the restless brook, that draws aslopeIts humid train, and laves their dark abodes.Where rages not oppression? where, alas,Is innocence secure? Rapine and spoilHaunt even the lowest deeps; seas have their sharks;Rivers and ponds inclose the ravenous pike;He, in his turn, becomes a prey; on himThe amphibious otter feasts. Just is his fate,Deserved; but tyrants know no bounds: nor spearsThat bristle on his back, defend the perchFrom his wide greedy jaws; nor burnish’d mailThe yellow carp; nor all his arts can saveThe insinuating eel, that hides his headBeneath the slimy mud; nor yet escapesThe crimson-spotted trout, the river’s pride,And beauty of the stream. Without remorse,This midnight pillager, ranging around,Insatiate, swallows all. The owner mournsThe unpeopled rivulet, and gladly hearsThe huntsman’s early call, and sees with joyThe jovial crew, that march upon its banksIn gay parade, with bearded lances arm’d.This subtle spoiler of the beaver kind,Far off perhaps, where ancient alders shade
Suck the moist soil, or slumber at their ease,Rock’d by the restless brook, that draws aslopeIts humid train, and laves their dark abodes.Where rages not oppression? where, alas,Is innocence secure? Rapine and spoilHaunt even the lowest deeps; seas have their sharks;Rivers and ponds inclose the ravenous pike;He, in his turn, becomes a prey; on himThe amphibious otter feasts. Just is his fate,Deserved; but tyrants know no bounds: nor spearsThat bristle on his back, defend the perchFrom his wide greedy jaws; nor burnish’d mailThe yellow carp; nor all his arts can saveThe insinuating eel, that hides his headBeneath the slimy mud; nor yet escapesThe crimson-spotted trout, the river’s pride,And beauty of the stream. Without remorse,This midnight pillager, ranging around,Insatiate, swallows all. The owner mournsThe unpeopled rivulet, and gladly hearsThe huntsman’s early call, and sees with joyThe jovial crew, that march upon its banksIn gay parade, with bearded lances arm’d.This subtle spoiler of the beaver kind,Far off perhaps, where ancient alders shade
Suck the moist soil, or slumber at their ease,Rock’d by the restless brook, that draws aslopeIts humid train, and laves their dark abodes.Where rages not oppression? where, alas,Is innocence secure? Rapine and spoilHaunt even the lowest deeps; seas have their sharks;Rivers and ponds inclose the ravenous pike;He, in his turn, becomes a prey; on himThe amphibious otter feasts. Just is his fate,Deserved; but tyrants know no bounds: nor spearsThat bristle on his back, defend the perchFrom his wide greedy jaws; nor burnish’d mailThe yellow carp; nor all his arts can saveThe insinuating eel, that hides his headBeneath the slimy mud; nor yet escapesThe crimson-spotted trout, the river’s pride,And beauty of the stream. Without remorse,This midnight pillager, ranging around,Insatiate, swallows all. The owner mournsThe unpeopled rivulet, and gladly hearsThe huntsman’s early call, and sees with joyThe jovial crew, that march upon its banksIn gay parade, with bearded lances arm’d.This subtle spoiler of the beaver kind,Far off perhaps, where ancient alders shade
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 382-406.
The deep still pool, within some hollow trunkContrives his wicker couch; whence he surveysHis long purlieu, lord of the stream, and allThe finny shoals his own. But you, brave youths,Dispute the felon’s claim; try every root,And every reedy bank; encourage allThe busy spreading pack, that fearless plungeInto the flood, and cross the rapid stream.Bid rocks and caves, and each resounding shore,Proclaim your bold defiance; loudly raiseEach cheering voice, till distant hills repeatThe triumphs of the vale. On the soft sand,See there, his seal impress’d; and, on that bank,Behold the glittering spoils, half-eaten fish,Scales, fins, and bones, the leavings of his feast.Ah! on that yielding sag-bed, see, once moreHis seal I view. O’er yon dank rushy marshThe sly goose-footed prowler bends his course,And seeks the distant shallows. Huntsman! bringThy eager pack, and trail him to his couch.Hark! the loud peal begins; the clamorous joy,The gallant chiding, loads the trembling air.Ye Naiads fair, who o’er these floods preside,Raise up your dripping heads above the wave,And hear our melody. The harmonious notes
The deep still pool, within some hollow trunkContrives his wicker couch; whence he surveysHis long purlieu, lord of the stream, and allThe finny shoals his own. But you, brave youths,Dispute the felon’s claim; try every root,And every reedy bank; encourage allThe busy spreading pack, that fearless plungeInto the flood, and cross the rapid stream.Bid rocks and caves, and each resounding shore,Proclaim your bold defiance; loudly raiseEach cheering voice, till distant hills repeatThe triumphs of the vale. On the soft sand,See there, his seal impress’d; and, on that bank,Behold the glittering spoils, half-eaten fish,Scales, fins, and bones, the leavings of his feast.Ah! on that yielding sag-bed, see, once moreHis seal I view. O’er yon dank rushy marshThe sly goose-footed prowler bends his course,And seeks the distant shallows. Huntsman! bringThy eager pack, and trail him to his couch.Hark! the loud peal begins; the clamorous joy,The gallant chiding, loads the trembling air.Ye Naiads fair, who o’er these floods preside,Raise up your dripping heads above the wave,And hear our melody. The harmonious notes
The deep still pool, within some hollow trunkContrives his wicker couch; whence he surveysHis long purlieu, lord of the stream, and allThe finny shoals his own. But you, brave youths,Dispute the felon’s claim; try every root,And every reedy bank; encourage allThe busy spreading pack, that fearless plungeInto the flood, and cross the rapid stream.Bid rocks and caves, and each resounding shore,Proclaim your bold defiance; loudly raiseEach cheering voice, till distant hills repeatThe triumphs of the vale. On the soft sand,See there, his seal impress’d; and, on that bank,Behold the glittering spoils, half-eaten fish,Scales, fins, and bones, the leavings of his feast.Ah! on that yielding sag-bed, see, once moreHis seal I view. O’er yon dank rushy marshThe sly goose-footed prowler bends his course,And seeks the distant shallows. Huntsman! bringThy eager pack, and trail him to his couch.Hark! the loud peal begins; the clamorous joy,The gallant chiding, loads the trembling air.Ye Naiads fair, who o’er these floods preside,Raise up your dripping heads above the wave,And hear our melody. The harmonious notes
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 407-431.
Float with the stream; and every winding creek,And hollow rock, that o’er the dimpling floodNods pendent, still improve, from shore to shore,Our sweet reiterated joys. What shouts!What clamour loud! What gay, heart-cheering soundsUrge, through the breathing brass their mazy way!Not choirs of Tritons glad, with sprightlier strains,The dancing billows, when proud Neptune ridesIn triumph o’er the deep. How greedilyThey snuff the fishy steam, that to each blade,Rank-scenting, clings! See! how the morning dewsThey sweep, that from their feet, besprinkling, drop,Dispersed, and leave a track oblique behind.Now on firm land they range; then in the floodThey plunge tumultuous; or through reedy pools,Rustling, they work their way: no holt escapesTheir curious search. With quick sensation nowThe fuming vapour stings, flutters their hearts,And joy, redoubled, bursts from every mouth,In louder symphonies. Yon hollow trunk,That, with its hoary head incurved, salutesThe passing wave, must be the tyrant’s fort,And dread abode. How these impatient climb,While others, at the root, incessant bay:They put him down. See, there he dives along!
Float with the stream; and every winding creek,And hollow rock, that o’er the dimpling floodNods pendent, still improve, from shore to shore,Our sweet reiterated joys. What shouts!What clamour loud! What gay, heart-cheering soundsUrge, through the breathing brass their mazy way!Not choirs of Tritons glad, with sprightlier strains,The dancing billows, when proud Neptune ridesIn triumph o’er the deep. How greedilyThey snuff the fishy steam, that to each blade,Rank-scenting, clings! See! how the morning dewsThey sweep, that from their feet, besprinkling, drop,Dispersed, and leave a track oblique behind.Now on firm land they range; then in the floodThey plunge tumultuous; or through reedy pools,Rustling, they work their way: no holt escapesTheir curious search. With quick sensation nowThe fuming vapour stings, flutters their hearts,And joy, redoubled, bursts from every mouth,In louder symphonies. Yon hollow trunk,That, with its hoary head incurved, salutesThe passing wave, must be the tyrant’s fort,And dread abode. How these impatient climb,While others, at the root, incessant bay:They put him down. See, there he dives along!
Float with the stream; and every winding creek,And hollow rock, that o’er the dimpling floodNods pendent, still improve, from shore to shore,Our sweet reiterated joys. What shouts!What clamour loud! What gay, heart-cheering soundsUrge, through the breathing brass their mazy way!Not choirs of Tritons glad, with sprightlier strains,The dancing billows, when proud Neptune ridesIn triumph o’er the deep. How greedilyThey snuff the fishy steam, that to each blade,Rank-scenting, clings! See! how the morning dewsThey sweep, that from their feet, besprinkling, drop,Dispersed, and leave a track oblique behind.Now on firm land they range; then in the floodThey plunge tumultuous; or through reedy pools,Rustling, they work their way: no holt escapesTheir curious search. With quick sensation nowThe fuming vapour stings, flutters their hearts,And joy, redoubled, bursts from every mouth,In louder symphonies. Yon hollow trunk,That, with its hoary head incurved, salutesThe passing wave, must be the tyrant’s fort,And dread abode. How these impatient climb,While others, at the root, incessant bay:They put him down. See, there he dives along!
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 432-456.
The ascending bubbles mark his gloomy way.Quick fix the nets, and cut off his retreatInto the sheltering deeps. Ah, there he vents!The pack plunge headlong, and protended spearsMenace destruction: while the troubled surgeIndignant foams, and all the scaly kind,Affrighted, hide their heads. Wild tumult reigns,And loud uproar. Ah, there once more he vents!See, that bold hound has seized him; down they sinkTogether, lost: but soon shall he repentHis rash assault. See, there escaped, he flies,Half-drown’d, and clambers up the slippery bank,With ooze and blood distain’d. Of all the brutes,Whether by nature formed, or by long use,This artful diver best can bear the wantOf vital air. Unequal is the fight,Beneath the whelming element. Yet thereHe lives not long; but respiration needs,At proper intervals: again he vents;Again the crowd attack. That spear has piercedHis neck; the crimson waves confess the wound.Fix’d is the bearded lance, unwelcome guest,Where’er he flies; with him it sinks beneath,With him it mounts; sure guide to every foe.Inly he groans; nor can his tender wound
The ascending bubbles mark his gloomy way.Quick fix the nets, and cut off his retreatInto the sheltering deeps. Ah, there he vents!The pack plunge headlong, and protended spearsMenace destruction: while the troubled surgeIndignant foams, and all the scaly kind,Affrighted, hide their heads. Wild tumult reigns,And loud uproar. Ah, there once more he vents!See, that bold hound has seized him; down they sinkTogether, lost: but soon shall he repentHis rash assault. See, there escaped, he flies,Half-drown’d, and clambers up the slippery bank,With ooze and blood distain’d. Of all the brutes,Whether by nature formed, or by long use,This artful diver best can bear the wantOf vital air. Unequal is the fight,Beneath the whelming element. Yet thereHe lives not long; but respiration needs,At proper intervals: again he vents;Again the crowd attack. That spear has piercedHis neck; the crimson waves confess the wound.Fix’d is the bearded lance, unwelcome guest,Where’er he flies; with him it sinks beneath,With him it mounts; sure guide to every foe.Inly he groans; nor can his tender wound
The ascending bubbles mark his gloomy way.Quick fix the nets, and cut off his retreatInto the sheltering deeps. Ah, there he vents!The pack plunge headlong, and protended spearsMenace destruction: while the troubled surgeIndignant foams, and all the scaly kind,Affrighted, hide their heads. Wild tumult reigns,And loud uproar. Ah, there once more he vents!See, that bold hound has seized him; down they sinkTogether, lost: but soon shall he repentHis rash assault. See, there escaped, he flies,Half-drown’d, and clambers up the slippery bank,With ooze and blood distain’d. Of all the brutes,Whether by nature formed, or by long use,This artful diver best can bear the wantOf vital air. Unequal is the fight,Beneath the whelming element. Yet thereHe lives not long; but respiration needs,At proper intervals: again he vents;Again the crowd attack. That spear has piercedHis neck; the crimson waves confess the wound.Fix’d is the bearded lance, unwelcome guest,Where’er he flies; with him it sinks beneath,With him it mounts; sure guide to every foe.Inly he groans; nor can his tender wound
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 457-480.
Bear the cold stream. Lo! to yon sedgy bankHe creeps, disconsolate: his numerous foesSurround him, hounds, and men. Pierced through and through,On pointed spears they lift him high in air;Wriggling, he hangs, and grins, and bites in vain.Bid the loud horns, in gaily-warbling strains,Proclaim the felon’s fate; he dies, he dies!Rejoice, ye scaly tribes; and, leaping, danceAbove the wave, in sign of libertyRestored: the cruel tyrant is no more.Rejoice, secure and bless’d; did not as yetRemain, some of your own rapacious kind;And man, fierce man, with all his various wiles.O happy, if ye knew your happy state,Ye rangers of the fields! whom nature boonCheers with her smiles, and every elementConspires to bless. What, if no heroes frownFrom marble pedestals; nor Raphael’s works,Nor Titian’s lively tints, adorn our walls?Yet these the meanest of us may behold;And, at another’s cost, may feast at willOur wondering eyes; what can the owner more?But vain, alas! is wealth, not graced with power.The flowery landscape, and the gilded dome,
Bear the cold stream. Lo! to yon sedgy bankHe creeps, disconsolate: his numerous foesSurround him, hounds, and men. Pierced through and through,On pointed spears they lift him high in air;Wriggling, he hangs, and grins, and bites in vain.Bid the loud horns, in gaily-warbling strains,Proclaim the felon’s fate; he dies, he dies!Rejoice, ye scaly tribes; and, leaping, danceAbove the wave, in sign of libertyRestored: the cruel tyrant is no more.Rejoice, secure and bless’d; did not as yetRemain, some of your own rapacious kind;And man, fierce man, with all his various wiles.O happy, if ye knew your happy state,Ye rangers of the fields! whom nature boonCheers with her smiles, and every elementConspires to bless. What, if no heroes frownFrom marble pedestals; nor Raphael’s works,Nor Titian’s lively tints, adorn our walls?Yet these the meanest of us may behold;And, at another’s cost, may feast at willOur wondering eyes; what can the owner more?But vain, alas! is wealth, not graced with power.The flowery landscape, and the gilded dome,
Bear the cold stream. Lo! to yon sedgy bankHe creeps, disconsolate: his numerous foesSurround him, hounds, and men. Pierced through and through,On pointed spears they lift him high in air;Wriggling, he hangs, and grins, and bites in vain.Bid the loud horns, in gaily-warbling strains,Proclaim the felon’s fate; he dies, he dies!Rejoice, ye scaly tribes; and, leaping, danceAbove the wave, in sign of libertyRestored: the cruel tyrant is no more.Rejoice, secure and bless’d; did not as yetRemain, some of your own rapacious kind;And man, fierce man, with all his various wiles.O happy, if ye knew your happy state,Ye rangers of the fields! whom nature boonCheers with her smiles, and every elementConspires to bless. What, if no heroes frownFrom marble pedestals; nor Raphael’s works,Nor Titian’s lively tints, adorn our walls?Yet these the meanest of us may behold;And, at another’s cost, may feast at willOur wondering eyes; what can the owner more?But vain, alas! is wealth, not graced with power.The flowery landscape, and the gilded dome,
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 481-505.
And vistas opening to the wearied eye,Through all his wide domain; the planted grove,The shrubby wilderness, with its gay choirOf warbling birds, can’t lull to soft reposeThe ambitious wretch, whose discontented soulIs harrow’d day and night; he mourns, he pines,Until his prince’s favour makes him great.See there he comes, the exalted idol comes!The circle’s form’d, and all his fawning slavesDevoutly bow to earth; from every mouthThe nauseous flattery flows, which he returnsWith promises, that die as soon as born.Vile intercourse! where virtue has no place.Frown but the monarch, all his glories fade;He mingles with the throng, outcast, undone,The pageant of a day; without one friendTo sooth his tortured mind; all, all are fled.For though they bask’d in his meridian ray,The insects vanish, as his beams decline.Not such our friends; for here no dark design,No wicked interest, bribes the venal heart;But inclination to our bosom leads,And weds them there for life; our social cupsSmile, as we smile; open, and unreserved.We speak our inmost souls; good humour, mirth,
And vistas opening to the wearied eye,Through all his wide domain; the planted grove,The shrubby wilderness, with its gay choirOf warbling birds, can’t lull to soft reposeThe ambitious wretch, whose discontented soulIs harrow’d day and night; he mourns, he pines,Until his prince’s favour makes him great.See there he comes, the exalted idol comes!The circle’s form’d, and all his fawning slavesDevoutly bow to earth; from every mouthThe nauseous flattery flows, which he returnsWith promises, that die as soon as born.Vile intercourse! where virtue has no place.Frown but the monarch, all his glories fade;He mingles with the throng, outcast, undone,The pageant of a day; without one friendTo sooth his tortured mind; all, all are fled.For though they bask’d in his meridian ray,The insects vanish, as his beams decline.Not such our friends; for here no dark design,No wicked interest, bribes the venal heart;But inclination to our bosom leads,And weds them there for life; our social cupsSmile, as we smile; open, and unreserved.We speak our inmost souls; good humour, mirth,
And vistas opening to the wearied eye,Through all his wide domain; the planted grove,The shrubby wilderness, with its gay choirOf warbling birds, can’t lull to soft reposeThe ambitious wretch, whose discontented soulIs harrow’d day and night; he mourns, he pines,Until his prince’s favour makes him great.See there he comes, the exalted idol comes!The circle’s form’d, and all his fawning slavesDevoutly bow to earth; from every mouthThe nauseous flattery flows, which he returnsWith promises, that die as soon as born.Vile intercourse! where virtue has no place.Frown but the monarch, all his glories fade;He mingles with the throng, outcast, undone,The pageant of a day; without one friendTo sooth his tortured mind; all, all are fled.For though they bask’d in his meridian ray,The insects vanish, as his beams decline.Not such our friends; for here no dark design,No wicked interest, bribes the venal heart;But inclination to our bosom leads,And weds them there for life; our social cupsSmile, as we smile; open, and unreserved.We speak our inmost souls; good humour, mirth,
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 506-530.
Soft complaisance, and wit from malice free,Smooth every brow, and glow on every cheek.O happiness sincere! what wretch would groanBeneath the galling load of power, or walkUpon the slippery pavements of the great,Who thus could reign, unenvied and secure?Ye guardian powers, who make mankind your care,Give me to know wise nature’s hidden depths,Trace each mysterious cause, with judgment readThe expanded volume, and, submiss, adoreThat great creative will, who, at a word,Spoke forth the wonderous scene. But if my soulTo this gross clay confined, flutters on earthWith less ambitious wing; unskill’d to rangeFrom orb to orb, where Newton leads the way;And, view with piercing eyes, the grand machine;Worlds above worlds, subservient to his voice;Who, veil’d in clouded majesty, aloneGives light to all; bids the great system move,And changeful seasons, in their turns, advance,Unmoved, unchanged himself: yet this, at least,Grant me propitious, an inglorious life,Calm and serene, nor lost in false pursuitsOf wealth or honours; but enough to raiseMy drooping friends, preventing modest want
Soft complaisance, and wit from malice free,Smooth every brow, and glow on every cheek.O happiness sincere! what wretch would groanBeneath the galling load of power, or walkUpon the slippery pavements of the great,Who thus could reign, unenvied and secure?Ye guardian powers, who make mankind your care,Give me to know wise nature’s hidden depths,Trace each mysterious cause, with judgment readThe expanded volume, and, submiss, adoreThat great creative will, who, at a word,Spoke forth the wonderous scene. But if my soulTo this gross clay confined, flutters on earthWith less ambitious wing; unskill’d to rangeFrom orb to orb, where Newton leads the way;And, view with piercing eyes, the grand machine;Worlds above worlds, subservient to his voice;Who, veil’d in clouded majesty, aloneGives light to all; bids the great system move,And changeful seasons, in their turns, advance,Unmoved, unchanged himself: yet this, at least,Grant me propitious, an inglorious life,Calm and serene, nor lost in false pursuitsOf wealth or honours; but enough to raiseMy drooping friends, preventing modest want
Soft complaisance, and wit from malice free,Smooth every brow, and glow on every cheek.O happiness sincere! what wretch would groanBeneath the galling load of power, or walkUpon the slippery pavements of the great,Who thus could reign, unenvied and secure?Ye guardian powers, who make mankind your care,Give me to know wise nature’s hidden depths,Trace each mysterious cause, with judgment readThe expanded volume, and, submiss, adoreThat great creative will, who, at a word,Spoke forth the wonderous scene. But if my soulTo this gross clay confined, flutters on earthWith less ambitious wing; unskill’d to rangeFrom orb to orb, where Newton leads the way;And, view with piercing eyes, the grand machine;Worlds above worlds, subservient to his voice;Who, veil’d in clouded majesty, aloneGives light to all; bids the great system move,And changeful seasons, in their turns, advance,Unmoved, unchanged himself: yet this, at least,Grant me propitious, an inglorious life,Calm and serene, nor lost in false pursuitsOf wealth or honours; but enough to raiseMy drooping friends, preventing modest want
BOOK IVTHE CHASE v. 531-536.
That dares not ask. And if, to crown my joys,Ye grant me health, that, ruddy in my cheeks,Blooms in my life’s decline; fields, woods, and streams,Each towering hill, each humble vale below,Shall hear my cheering voice; my hounds shall wakeThe lazy morn, and glad the horizon round.
That dares not ask. And if, to crown my joys,Ye grant me health, that, ruddy in my cheeks,Blooms in my life’s decline; fields, woods, and streams,Each towering hill, each humble vale below,Shall hear my cheering voice; my hounds shall wakeThe lazy morn, and glad the horizon round.
That dares not ask. And if, to crown my joys,Ye grant me health, that, ruddy in my cheeks,Blooms in my life’s decline; fields, woods, and streams,Each towering hill, each humble vale below,Shall hear my cheering voice; my hounds shall wakeThe lazy morn, and glad the horizon round.
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