Of the worst monster that e’er roamed the waste,
For Sport alone pursues the cruel chase,
Amid the beamings of the gentle days.
Upbraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage,
For hunger kindles you, and lawless want;
But lavish fed, in Nature’s bounty rolled—
To joy at anguish, and delight in blood—
Is what your horrid bosoms never knew.”[152]
We conclude these extracts from The Seasons with the poet’s indignant reflection upon the selfish greed of Commerce, which barbarously sacrifices by thousands (as it does also the innocent mammalia of the seas) the noblest and most sagacious of the terrestrial races for the sake of a superfluous luxury:—
“Peaceful, beneath primeval trees, that cast