It chanced in this disastrous case,
One morn betimes he join'd the chase:
Swift o'er the plain the hunters fly,
Each echoing out a joyous cry;
A forest next before them lay;
He, left behind, mistook his way,
And long alone bewildered rode,
He found a peasant's poor abode;
But fasting kept, from six to four,
Felt hunger, long unfelt before;