BOOK III.
THE ARGUMENT.
Of King Edgar and his imposing a tribute of wolves' heads upon the kings of Wales: from hence a transition to fox-hunting, which is described in all its parts.—Censure of an over-numerous pack.—Of the several engines to destroy foxes, and other wild beasts.—The steel-trap described, and the manner of using it.—Description of the pitfall for the lion; and another for the elephant.—The ancient way of hunting the tiger with a mirror.—The Arabian manner of hunting the wild boar.—Description of the royal stag-chase at Windsor Forest.—Concludes with an address to his Majesty, and an eulogy upon mercy.
In Albion's isle when glorious Edgar reigned,
He wisely provident, from her white cliffs
Launched half her forests, and with numerous fleets
Covered his wide domain: there proudly rode
Lord of the deep, the great prerogative
Of British monarchs. Each invader bold,
Dane and Norwegian, at a distance gazed,
And disappointed, gnashed his teeth in vain.
He scoured the seas, and to remotest shores
With swelling sails the trembling corsair fled.
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Rich commerce flourished; and with busy oars
Dashed the resounding surge. Nor less at land
His royal cares; wise, potent, gracious prince!
His subjects from their cruel foes he saved,
And from rapacious savages their flocks.
Cambria's proud kings (though with reluctance) paid
Their tributary wolves; head after head,
In full account, till the woods yield no more,
And all the ravenous race extinct is lost.
In fertile pastures, more securely grazed
_20
The social troops; and soon their large increase
With curling fleeces whitened all the plains.
But yet, alas! the wily fox remained,
A subtle, pilfering foe, prowling around 24
In midnight shades, and wakeful to destroy.
In the full fold, the poor defenceless lamb,
Seized by his guileful arts, with sweet warm blood
Supplies a rich repast. The mournful ewe,
Her dearest treasure lost, through the dun night
Wanders perplexed, and darkling bleats in vain:
_30
While in the adjacent bush, poor Philomel,
(Herself a parent once, till wanton churls
Despoiled her nest) joins in her loud laments,
With sweeter notes, and more melodious woe.
For these nocturnal thieves, huntsman, prepare
Thy sharpest vengeance. Oh! how glorious 'tis
To right the oppressed, and bring the felon vile
To just disgrace! Ere yet the morning peep,
Or stars retire from the first blush of day,
With thy far-echoing voice alarm thy pack,
_40
And rouse thy bold compeers. Then to the copse,
Thick with entangling grass, or prickly furze,
With silence lead thy many-coloured hounds,
In all their beauty's pride. See! how they range
Dispersed, how busily this way and that,
They cross, examining with curious nose
Each likely haunt. Hark! on the drag I hear
Their doubtful notes, preluding to a cry
More nobly full, and swelled with every mouth.
As straggling armies at the trumpet's voice,
_50
Press to their standard; hither all repair,
And hurry through the woods; with hasty step
Bustling, and full of hope; now driven on heaps
They push, they strive; while from his kennel sneaks
The conscious villain. See! he skulks along,
Sleek at the shepherd's cost, and plump with meals
Purloined. So thrive the wicked here below.
Though high his brush he bear, though tipped with white
It gaily shine; yet ere the sun declined
Recall the shades of night, the pampered rogue
_60
Shall rue his fate reversed; and at his heels
Behold the just avenger, swift to seize
His forfeit head, and thirsting for his blood.
Heavens! what melodious strains! how beat our hearts
Big with tumultuous joy! the loaded gales
Breathe harmony; and as the tempest drives
From wood to wood, through every dark recess
The forest thunders, and the mountains shake.
The chorus swells; less various, and less sweet
The trilling notes, when in those very groves,
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The feathered choristers salute the spring,
And every bush in concert joins; or when
The master's hand, in modulated air,
Bids the loud organ breathe, and all the powers
Of music in one instrument combine,
An universal minstrelsy. And now
In vain each earth he tries, the doors are barred
Impregnable, nor is the covert safe;
He pants for purer air. Hark! what loud shouts
Re-echo through the groves! he breaks away,
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Shrill horns proclaim his flight. Each straggling hound
Strains o'er the lawn to reach the distant pack.
'Tis triumph all and joy. Now, my brave youths,
Now give a loose to the clean generous steed;
Flourish the whip, nor spare the galling spur;
But in the madness of delight, forget
Your fears. Far o'er the rocky hills we range,
And dangerous our course; but in the brave
True courage never fails. In vain the stream
In foaming eddies whirls; in vain the ditch
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Wide-gaping threatens death. The craggy steep
Where the poor dizzy shepherd crawls with care,
And clings to every twig, gives us no pain;
But down we sweep, as stoops the falcon bold
To pounce his prey. Then up the opponent hill,
By the swift motion slung, we mount aloft:
So ships in winter-seas now sliding sink
Adown the steepy wave, then tossed on high
Ride on the billows, and defy the storm.
What lengths we pass! where will the wandering chase
_100
Lead us bewildered! smooth as the swallows skim
The new-shorn mead, and far more swift we fly.
See my brave pack! how to the head they press,
Jostling in close array; then more diffuse
Obliquely wheel, while from their opening mouths
The vollied thunder breaks. So when the cranes
Their annual voyage steer, with wanton wing
Their figure oft they change, and their loud clang
From cloud to cloud rebounds. How far behind
The hunter-crew, wide straggling o'er the plain!
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The panting courser now with trembling nerves
Begins to reel; urged by the goring spur,
Makes many a faint effort: he snorts, he foams,
The big round drops run trickling down his sides,
With sweat and blood distained. Look back and view
The strange confusion of the vale below,
Where sour vexation reigns; see yon poor jade,
In vain the impatient rider frets and swears,
With galling spurs harrows his mangled sides;
He can no more: his stiff unpliant limbs
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Rooted in earth, unmoved and fixed he stands,
For every cruel curse returns a groan,
And sobs, and faints, and dies. Who without grief
Can view that pampered steed, his master's joy,
His minion, and his daily care, well clothed,
Well fed with every nicer cate; no cost,
No labour spared; who, when the flying chase
Broke from the copse, without a rival led
The numerous train: now a sad spectacle
Of pride brought low, and humbled insolence,
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Drove like a panniered ass, and scourged along.
While these with loosened reins, and dangling heels,
Hang on their reeling palfreys, that scarce bear
Their weights; another in the treacherous bog
Lies floundering half engulfed. What biting thoughts
Torment the abandoned crew! Old age laments
His vigour spent: the tall, plump, brawny youth
Curses his cumbrous bulk; and envies now
The short Pygmean race, he whilom kenn'd
With proud insulting leer. A chosen few
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Alone the sport enjoy, nor droop beneath
Their pleasing toils. Here, huntsman, from this height
Observe yon birds of prey; if I can judge,
'Tis there the villain lurks; they hover round
And claim him as their own. Was I not right?
See! there he creeps along; his brush he drags,
And sweeps the mire impure; from his wide jaws
His tongue unmoistened hangs; symptoms too sure
Of sudden death. Ha! yet he flies, nor yields
To black despair. But one loose more, and all
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His wiles are vain. Hark! through yon village now
The rattling clamour rings. The barns, the cots
And leafless elms return the joyous sounds.
Through every homestall, and through every yard,
His midnight walks, panting, forlorn, he flies;
Through every hole he sneaks, through every jakes
Plunging he wades besmeared, and fondly hopes
In a superior stench to lose his own:
But faithful to the track, the unerring hounds
With peals of echoing vengeance close pursue.
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And now distressed, no sheltering covert near,
Into the hen-roost creeps, whose walls with gore
Distained attest his guilt. There, villain, there
Expect thy fate deserved. And soon from thence
The pack inquisitive, with clamour loud,
Drag out their trembling prize; and on his blood
With greedy transport feast. In bolder notes
Each sounding horn proclaims the felon dead:
And all the assembled village shouts for joy.
The farmer who beholds his mortal foe
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Stretched at his feet, applauds the glorious deed,
And grateful calls us to a short repast!
In the full glass the liquid amber smiles,
Our native product. And his good old mate
With choicest viands heaps the liberal board,
To crown our triumphs, and reward our toils.
Here must the instructive Muse (but with respect)
Censure that numerous pack, that crowd of state,
With which the vain profusion of the great
Covers the lawn, and shakes the trembling copse.
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Pompous incumbrance! A magnificence
Useless, vexatious! For the wily fox,
Safe in the increasing number of his foes,
Kens well the great advantage: slinks behind
And slily creeps through the same beaten track,
And hunts them step by step; then views escaped
With inward ecstasy, the panting throng
In their own footsteps puzzled, foiled and lost.
So when proud Eastern kings summon to arms
Their gaudy legions, from far distant climes
_190
They flock in crowds, unpeopling half a world:
But when the day of battle calls them forth
To charge the well-trained foe, a band compact
Of chosen veterans; they press blindly on,
In heaps confused, by their own weapons fall,
A smoking carnage scattered o'er the plain.
Nor hounds alone this noxious brood destroy:
The plundered warrener full many a wile
Devises to entrap his greedy foe,
Fat with nocturnal spoils. At close of day,
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With silence drags his trail; then from the ground
Pares thin the close-grazed turf, there with nice hand
Covers the latent death, with curious springs
Prepared to fly at once, whene'er the tread
Of man or beast unwarily shall press
The yielding surface. By the indented steel
With gripe tenacious held, the felon grins,
And struggles, but in vain: yet oft 'tis known,
When every art has failed, the captive fox
Has shared the wounded joint, and with a limb
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Compounded for his life. But if perchance
In the deep pitfall plunged, there's no escape;
But unreprieved he dies, and bleached in air
The jest of clowns, his reeking carcase hangs.
Of these are various kinds; not even the king
Of brutes evades this deep devouring grave:
But by the wily African betrayed,
Heedless of fate, within its gaping jaws
Expires indignant. When the orient beam
With blushes paints the dawn; and all the race
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Carnivorous, with blood full-gorged, retire
Into their darksome cells, there satiate snore
O'er dripping offals, and the mangled limbs
Of men and beasts; the painful forester 224
Climbs the high hills, whose proud aspiring tops,
With the tall cedar crowned, and taper fir,
Assail the clouds. There 'mong the craggy rocks,
And thickets intricate, trembling he views
His footsteps in the sand; the dismal road
And avenue to death. Hither he calls
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His watchful bands; and low into the ground
A pit they sink, full many a fathom deep.
Then in the midst a column high is reared,
The butt of some fair tree; upon whose top
A lamb is placed, just ravished from his dam.
And next a wall they build, with stones and earth
Encircling round, and hiding from all view
The dreadful precipice. Now when the shades
Of night hang lowering o'er the mountain's brow;
And hunger keen, and pungent thirst of blood,
_240
Rouse up the slothful beast, he shakes his sides,
Slow-rising from his lair, and stretches wide
His ravenous jaws, with recent gore distained.
The forests tremble, as he roars aloud,
Impatient to destroy. O'erjoyed he hears
The bleating innocent, that claims in vain
The shepherd's care, and seeks with piteous moan
The foodful teat; himself, alas! designed
Another's meal. For now the greedy brute
Winds him from far; and leaping o'er the mound
_250
To seize his trembling prey, headlong is plunged
Into the deep abyss. Prostrate he lies
Astunned and impotent. Ah! what avail
Thine eye-balls flashing fire, thy length of tail,
That lashes thy broad sides, thy jaws besmeared
With blood and offals crude, thy shaggy mane
The terror of the woods, thy stately port,
And bulk enormous, since by stratagem
Thy strength is foiled? Unequal is the strife,
When sovereign reason combats brutal rage.
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On distant Ethiopia's sun-burnt coasts,
The black inhabitants a pitfall frame,
But of a different kind, and different use.
With slender poles the wide capacious mouth,
And hurdles slight, they close; o'er these is spread
A floor of verdant turf, with all its flowers
Smiling delusive, and from strictest search
Concealing the deep grave that yawns below.
Then boughs of trees they cut, with tempting fruit
Of various kinds surcharged; the downy peach,
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The clustering vine, and of bright golden rind
The fragrant orange. Soon as evening gray
Advances slow, besprinkling all around
With kind refreshing dews the thirsty glebe,
The stately elephant from the close shade
With step majestic strides, eager to taste
The cooler breeze, that from the sea-beat shore
Delightful breathes, or in the limpid stream
To lave his panting sides; joyous he scents
The rich repast, unweeting of the death
_280
That lurks within. And soon he sporting breaks
The brittle boughs, and greedily devours
The fruit delicious. Ah! too dearly bought;
The price is life. For now the treacherous turf
Trembling gives way; and the unwieldy beast
Self-sinking, drops into the dark profound.
So when dilated vapours, struggling heave
The incumbent earth; if chance the caverned ground
Shrinking subside, and the thin surface yield,
Down sinks at once the ponderous dome, engulfed
_290
With all its towers. Subtle, delusive man!
How various are thy wiles! artful to kill
Thy savage foes, a dull unthinking race!
Fierce from his lair, springs forth the speckled pard,
Thirsting for blood, and eager to destroy;
The huntsman flies, but to his flight alone
Confides not: at convenient distance fixed,
A polished mirror stops in full career
The furious brute: he there his image views;
Spots against spots with rage improving glow;
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Another pard his bristly whiskers curls,
Grins as he grins, fierce-menacing, and wide
Distends his opening jaws; himself against
Himself opposed, and with dread vengeance armed.
The huntsman now secure, with fatal aim
Directs the pointed spear, by which transfixed
He dies, and with him dies the rival shade.
Thus man innumerous engines forms, to assail
The savage kind: but most the docile horse,
Swift and confederate with man, annoys
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His brethren of the plains; without whose aid
The hunter's arts are vain, unskilled to wage
With the more active brutes an equal war.
But borne by him, without the well-trained pack,
Man dares his foe, on wings of wind secure.
Him the fierce Arab mounts, and with his troop
Of bold compeers, ranges the deserts wild,
Where by the magnet's aid, the traveller
Steers his untrodden course; yet oft on land
Is wrecked, in the high-rolling waves of sand
_320
Immersed and lost; while these intrepid bands,
Safe in their horses' speed, out-fly the storm,
And scouring round, make men and beasts their prey.
The grisly boar is singled from his herd
As large as that in Erimanthian woods.
A match for Hercules. Round him they fly
In circles wide; and each in passing sends
His feathered death into his brawny sides.
But perilous the attempt. For if the steed
Haply too near approach; or the loose earth
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His footing fail; the watchful angry beast
The advantage spies; and at one sidelong glance
Rips up his groin. Wounded, he rears aloft,
And plunging, from his back the rider hurls
Precipitant; then bleeding spurns the ground,
And drags his reeking entrails o'er the plain.
Meanwhile the surly monster trots along,
But with unequal speed; for still they wound,
Swift-wheeling in the spacious ring. A wood
Of darts upon his back he bears; adown
_340
His tortured sides, the crimson torrents roll
From many a gaping font. And now at last
Staggering he falls, in blood and foam expires.
But whither roves my devious Muse, intent
On antique tales, while yet the royal stag
Unsung remains? Tread with respectful awe
Windsor's green glades; where Denham, tuneful bard,
Charmed once the listening dryads, with his song
Sublimely sweet. Oh! grant me, sacred shade,
To glean submiss what thy full sickle leaves.
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The morning sun that gilds with trembling rays
Windsor's high towers, beholds the courtly train
Mount for the chase, nor views in all his course
A scene so gay: heroic, noble youths,
In arts and arms renowned, and lovely nymphs
The fairest of this isle, where Beauty dwells
Delighted, and deserts her Paphian grove
For our more favoured shades: in proud parade
These shine magnificent, and press around
The royal happy pair. Great in themselves,
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They smile superior; of external show
Regardless, while their inbred virtues give
A lustre to their power, and grace their court
With real splendours, far above the pomp
Of eastern kings, in all their tinsel pride.
Like troops of Amazons, the female band
Prance round their cars, not in refulgent arms
As those of old; unskilled to wield the sword,
Or bend the bow, these kill with surer aim.
The royal offspring, fairest of the fair,
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Lead on the splendid train. Anna, more bright
Than summer suns, or as the lightning keen,
With irresistible effulgence armed,
Fires every heart. He must be more than man,
Who unconcerned can bear the piercing ray.
Amelia, milder than the blushing dawn,
With sweet engaging air, but equal power,
Insensibly subdues, and in soft chains
Her willing captives leads. Illustrious maids,
Ever triumphant! whose victorious charms,
_380
Without the needless aid of high descent,
Had awed mankind, and taught the world's great lords
To bow and sue for grace. But who is he
Fresh as a rose-bud newly blown, and fair
As opening lilies; on whom every eye
With joy and admiration dwells? See, see,
He reins his docile barb with manly grace.
Is it Adonis for the chase arrayed?
Or Britain's second hope? Hail, blooming youth![9]
May all your virtues with your years improve,
_390
Till in consumate worth, you shine the pride
Of these our days, and to succeeding times
A bright example. As his guard of mutes
On the great sultan wait, with eyes deject
And fixed on earth, no voice, no sound is heard
Within the wide serail, but all is hushed,
And awful silence reigns; thus stand the pack
Mute and unmoved, and cowering low to earth,
While pass the glittering court, and royal pair:
So disciplined those hounds, and so reserved,
_400
Whose honour 'tis to glad the hearts of kings.
But soon the winding horn, and huntsman's voice,
Let loose the general chorus; far around
Joy spreads its wings, and the gay morning smiles.
Unharboured now the royal stag forsakes
His wonted lair; he shakes his dappled sides,
And tosses high his beamy head, the copse
Beneath his antlers bends. What doubling shifts
He tries! not more the wily hare; in these
Would still persist, did not the full-mouthed pack
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With dreadful concert thunder in his rear.
The woods reply, the hunter's cheering shouts
Float through the glades, and the wide forest rings.
How merrily they chant! their nostrils deep
Inhale the grateful steam. Such is the cry,
And such the harmonious din, the soldier deems
The battle kindling, and the statesman grave
Forgets his weighty cares; each age, each sex
In the wild transport joins; luxuriant joy,
And pleasure in excess, sparkling exult
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On every brow, and revel unrestrained.
How happy art thou, man, when thou 'rt no more
Thyself! 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 hoofs
Securely beat the solid ground. Who now
The dangerous pitfall fears, with tangling heath
High-overgrown? Or who the quivering bog
Soft yielding to the step? All now is plain,
_430
Plain as the strand sea-laved, that stretches far
Beneath the rocky shore. Glades crossing glades
The forest opens to our wondering view:
Such was the king's command. Let tyrants fierce
Lay waste the world; his the more glorious part
To check their pride; and when the brazen voice
Of war is hushed (as erst victorious Rome)
To employ his stationed legions in the works
Of peace; to smoothe the rugged wilderness,
To drain the stagnate fen, to raise the slope
_440
Depending road, and to make gay the face
Of nature, with the embellishments of art.
How melts my beating heart! as I behold
Each lovely nymph our island's boast and pride,
Push on the generous steed, that strokes along
O'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,
_450
Direct their dubious course; now chilled with fear
Solicitous, and now with love inflamed.
Oh! grant, indulgent Heaven, no rising storm
May darken with black wings, this glorious scene!
Should some malignant power thus damp our joys,
Vain were the gloomy cave, such as of old
Betrayed to lawless love the Tyrian queen.
For Britain's virtuous nymphs are chaste as fair,
Spotless, unblamed, with equal triumph reign
In the dun gloom, as in the blaze of day.
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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 views
The fell destroyer; still the fatal cry
Insults his ears, and wounds his trembling heart.
So the poor fury-haunted wretch (his hands
In guiltless blood distained) still seems to hear
The dying shrieks; and the pale threatening ghost
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Moves as he moves, and as he flies pursues.
See here his slot; up yon green hill he climbs,
Pants on its brow a while, sadly looks back
On 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 reigned
Proud monarch of the groves, whose clashing beam
His rivals awed, and whose exalted power
Was still rewarded with successful love.
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But the base herd have learned 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 embossed; nor are his hounds deceived;
Too well distinguish these, and never leave
Their once devoted foe; familiar grows
His scent, and strong their appetite to kill.
Again he flies, and with redoubled speed
Skims o'er the lawn; still the tenacious crew
_490
Hang on the track, aloud demand their prey,
And push him many a league. If haply then
Too far escaped, and the gay courtly train
Behind are cast, the huntsman's clanging whip
Stops 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 streams
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Dammed up a while, they foam, and pour along
With fresh-recruited might. The stag, who hoped
His foes were lost, now once more hears astunned
The dreadful din; he shivers every limb,
He starts, he bounds; each bush presents a foe.
Pressed by the fresh relay, no pause allowed,
Breathless, and faint, he falters in his pace,
And lifts his weary limbs with pain, that scarce
Sustain their load! he pants, he sobs appalled;
Drops down his heavy head to earth, beneath
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His cumbrous beams oppressed. But if perchance
Some prying eye surprise him; soon he rears
Erect his towering front, bounds o'er the lawn
With ill-dissembled vigour, to amuse
The knowing forester; who inly smiles
At his weak shifts, and unavailing frauds.
So midnight tapers waste their last remains,
Shine forth a while, and as they blaze expire.
From wood to wood redoubling thunders roll,
And bellow through the vales; the moving storm
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Thickens amain, and loud triumphant shouts,
And horns shrill-warbling in each glade, prelude
To his approaching fate. And now in view
With hobbling gait, and high, exerts amazed
What strength is left: to the last dregs of life
Reduced, his spirits fail, on every side
Hemmed in, besieged; not the least opening left
To gleaming hope, the unhappy's last reserve.
Where shall he turn? or whither fly? Despair
Gives courage to the weak. Resolved to die,
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He fears no more, but rushes on his foes,
And deals his deaths around; beneath his feet
These grovelling lie, those by his antlers gored
Defile the ensanguined plain. Ah! see distressed
He stands at bay against yon knotty trunk,
That covers well his rear, his front presents
An host of foes. Oh! shun, ye noble train,
The rude encounter, and believe your lives
Your country's due alone. As now aloof
They wing around, he finds his soul upraised
_540
To dare some great exploit; he charges home
Upon 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 flood
Precipitant; down the mid-stream he wafts
Along, till (like a ship distressed, that runs
Into some winding creek) close to the verge
Of a small island, for his weary feet
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Sure anchorage he finds, there skulks immersed.
His nose alone above the wave draws in
The vital air; all else beneath the flood
Concealed, and lost, deceives each prying eye
Of man or brute. In vain the crowding pack
Draw on the margin of the stream, or cut
The liquid wave with oary feet, that move
In equal time. The gliding waters leave
No trace behind, and his contracted pores
But sparingly perspire: the huntsman strains
_560
His 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 mouth
Loud opening spends amain, and his wide throat
Swells every note with joy; then fearless dives
Beneath the wave, hangs on his haunch, and wounds
The unhappy brute, that flounders in the stream,
Sorely distressed, and struggling strives to mount
The steepy shore. Haply once more escaped,
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Again he stands at bay, amid the groves
Of willows, bending low their downy heads.
Outrageous transport fires the greedy pack;
These swim the deep, and those crawl up with pain
The slippery bank, while others on firm land
Engage; the stag repels each bold assault,
Maintains his post, and wounds for wounds returns.
As when some wily corsair boards a ship
Full-freighted, or from Afric's golden coasts,
Or India's wealthy strand, his bloody crew
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Upon her deck he slings; these in the deep
Drop 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,
Pressed to his last retreat, bravely resolves
To sink his wealth beneath the whelming wave,
His wealth, his foes, nor unrevenged to die.
So fares it with the stag: so he resolves
To plunge at once into the flood below,
Himself, his foes in one deep gulf immersed.
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Ere yet he executes this dire intent,
In wild disorder once more views the light;
Beneath a weight of woe, he groans distressed:
The tears run trickling down his hairy cheeks;
He weeps, nor weeps in vain. The king beholds
His wretched plight, and tenderness innate
Moves his great soul. Soon at his high command
Rebuked, the disappointed, hungry pack
Retire submiss, and grumbling quit their prey.
Great Prince! from thee, what may thy subjects hope;
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So kind, and so beneficent to brutes?
O mercy, heavenly born! Sweet attribute!
Thou great, thou best prerogative of power!
Justice may guard the throne, but joined with thee,
On rocks of adamant it stands secure,
And braves the storm beneath; soon as thy smiles
Gild the rough deep, the foaming waves subside,
And all the noisy tumult sinks in peace.