Nor will it less delight the attentive sage,
To observe that instinct, which, unerring, guides
The brutal race, which mimicks reason’s lore,
And oft transcends. Heaven-taught, the roebuck swift
Loiters at ease before the driving pack,
And mocks their vain pursuit; nor far he flies,
But checks his ardour, till the steaming scent,
That freshens on the blade, provokes their rage.
Urged to their speed, his weak deluded foes,
Soon flag fatigued; strain’d to excess each nerve,
Each slacken’d sinew fails; they pant, they foam:
Then o’er the lawn he bounds, o’er the high hills
Stretches secure, and leaves the scatter’d crowd,
To puzzle in the distant vale below.
BOOK II THE CHASE v. 15-38.
’Tis instinct that directs the jealous hare
To choose her soft abode: with step reversed,
She forms the doubling maze; then, ere the morn
Peeps through the clouds, leaps to her close recess.
As wandering shepherds, on the Arabian plains,
No settled residence observe, but shift
Their moving camp; now, on some cooler hill,
With cedars crown’d, court the refreshing breeze;
And then, below, where trickling streams distil
From some penurious source, their thirst allay,
And feed their fainting flocks. So the wise hares
Oft quit their seats, lest some more curious eye
Should mark their haunts, and by dark treacherous wiles
Plot their destruction; or, perchance, in hopes
Of plenteous forage, near the ranker mead,
Or matted blade, wary and close they sit.
When spring shines forth, season of love and joy,
In the moist marsh, ’mong beds of rushes hid,
They cool their boiling blood: when summer suns
Bake the cleft earth, to thick wide-waving fields
Of corn full grown, they lead their helpless young:
But when autumnal torrents, and fierce rains
Deluge the vale, in the dry crumbling bank
Their forms they delve, and cautiously avoid
BOOK II THE CHASE v. 39-63.
The dripping covert; yet when winter’s cold
Their limbs benumbs, thither, with speed return’d,
In the long grass they skulk, or, shrinking, creep
Among the wither’d leaves: thus changing still,
As fancy prompts them, or as food invites.
But every season carefully observed,
The inconstant winds, the fickle element,
The wise experienced huntsman soon may find
His subtle, various game; nor waste in vain
His tedious hours, till his impatient hounds,
With disappointment vex’d, each springing lark
Babbling pursue, far scatter’d o’er the fields.
Now golden autumn from her open lap
Her fragrant bounties showers; the fields are shorn;
Inwardly smiling, the proud farmer views
The rising pyramids that grace his yard,
And counts his large increase; his barns are stored,
And groaning staddles bend beneath their load.
All now is free as air, and the gay pack
In the rough bristly stubbles range, unblamed;
No widow’s tears o’erflow, no secret curse
Swells in the farmer’s breast, which his pale lips
Trembling conceal, by his fierce landlord awed:
But courteous now, he levels every fence,
Joins in the common cry, and halloos loud,
BOOK II THE CHASE v. 64-88.
Charm’d with the rattling thunder of the field.
Oh bear me, some kind power invisible,
To that extended lawn, where the gay court
View the swift racers, stretching to the goal!
Games more renown’d, and a far nobler train,
Than proud Elean fields could boast of old.
Oh! were a Theban lyre not wanting here,
And Pindar’s voice, to do their merit right!
Or to those spacious plains, where the strain’d eye,
In the wide prospect lost, beholds at last
Sarum’s proud spire, that o’er the hills ascends,
And pierces through the clouds. Or to thy downs,
Fair Cotswold, where the well-breathed beagle climbs,
With matchless speed, thy green aspiring brow,
And leaves the lagging multitude behind.
Hail, gentle dawn! mild blushing goddess, hail!
Rejoiced, I see thy purple mantle spread
O’er half the skies, gems pave thy radiant way,
And orient pearls from every shrub depend.
Farewell, Cleora; here deep sunk in down,
Slumber secure, with happy dreams amused,
Till grateful steams shall tempt thee to receive
Thy early meal, or thy officious maids,
The toilet placed, shall urge thee to perform
The important work. Me other joys invite,