With shiver’d limb he haply may repent
His forward zeal and fury uncontrol’d
Puzzles the will; and makes us rather pine
In humble cell, than seek for distant joys
Where pain and death th’ advent’rous hunter wait.
But hark——
The hunter’s notes, on Zephyr’s pinion borne,
Assail my ears——
Already Phœbus gilds the mountain
Great Phœbus, patron of the hunting crew,