And the proud stag caught from afar the strain, 455
Tossed his broad brow, and sought his woods again.
There now the hind, in fern-clad hollows hid,
Couches the pendant weeds and flowers amid,
Or tripping light, her velvets gemmed with dew,
With a shy wildness glances on the view, 460
Turns her fair neck with momentary gaze,
Then plunges in the covert’s verdant maze;
There now the pheasant’s shrilly note is heard,
There in blest freedom lives each happy bird;