O’er plains remote she stretches far away,
Ah! never to return! For greedy Death
Hovering exults, secure to seize his prey.
Hark! from yon covert, where those towering oaks
Above the humble copse aspiring rise,
What glorious triumphs burst in every gale
Upon our ravish’d ears! The hunter’s shout,
The changing horns, swell their sweet-winding notes;
The pack wide opening load the trembling air
With various melody; from tree to tree