Thick with entangling grass or prickly furze,
With silence lead thy many-coloured hounds
In all their beauty’s pride.”—Somervile.
Plate II.—THE FIND.
“Hark! what loud shouts
Re-echo thro’the groves: he breaks away;
Shrill horns proclaim his flight; each straggling hound
Strains o’er the lawn to reach the distant pack.
’Tis triumph all and joy.”
“Hark! on the drag I hear