His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret;
His snout digs sepulchres where-e'er he goes;
Being mov'd, he strikes whate'er is in his way,
And whom he strikes, his crooked tushes slay.
His brawny sides, with hairy bristles armed,
Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter;
His short thick neck cannot be easily harmed;
Being ireful, on the lion he will venture.—
But if thou needs wilt hunt, be rul'd by me;
Uncouple at the timorous flying hare,