How quick she turns! their gaping jaws eludes,
And yet a moment lives; till, round inclos’d
By all the greedy pack, with infant screams
She yields her breath, and there reluctant dies!
William Somerville, 1692–1742.
A HUNTER’S MATIN.
Up, comrades, up! the morn’s awake
Upon the mountain side,
The curlew’s wing hath swept the lake,
And the deer has left the tangled brake,