Argument.
Of King Edgar, and his imposing a tribute of wolves’ heads upon the kings of Wales: from hence a transition to fox-hunting, which is described in all its parts. Censure of an over-numerous pack. Of the several engines to destroy foxes, and other wild beasts. The steel-trap described, and the manner of using it. Description of the pitfall for the lion; and another for the elephant. The ancient way of hunting the tiger with a mirror. The Arabian manner of hunting the wild boar. Description of the royal stag-chase at Windsor Forest. Concludes with an address to his Majesty, and an eulogy upon mercy.
In Albion’s isle, when glorious Edgar reign’d,
He, wisely provident, from her white cliffs
Launch’d half her forests, and, with numerous fleets,
Cover’d his wide domain: there proudly rode,
Lord of the deep, the great prerogative
Of British monarchs. Each invader bold,
Dane and Norwegian, at a distance gazed,
And, disappointed, gnash’d his teeth in vain.
He scour’d the seas, and to remotest shores,
With swelling sails, the trembling corsair fled.
Rich commerce flourish’d; and with busy oars
Dash’d the resounding surge. Nor less, at land,
His royal cares; wise, potent, gracious prince!
BOOK III THE CHASE v. 14-38.
His subjects from their cruel foes he saved,
And, from rapacious savages, their flocks.
Cambria’s proud kings, though with reluctance, paid
Their tributary wolves; head after head,
In full account, till the woods yield no more,
And all the ravenous race, extinct, is lost.
In fertile pastures, more securely grazed
The social troops; and soon their large increase,
With curling fleeces, whiten’d all the plains.
But yet, alas! the wily fox remain’d,
A subtle, pilfering foe, prowling around
In midnight shades, and wakeful to destroy.
In the full fold, the poor defenceless lamb,
Seized by his guileful arts, with sweet warm blood,
Supplies a rich repast. The mournful ewe,
Her dearest treasure lost, through the dun night
Wanders perplex’d, and, darkling, bleats in vain:
While, in the adjacent bush, poor Philomel,
Herself a parent once, till wanton churls
Despoil’d her nest, joins in her loud laments,
With sweeter notes, and more melodious woe.
For these nocturnal thieves, huntsman, prepare
Thy sharpest vengeance. Oh! how glorious ’tis
To right the oppress’d, and bring the felon vile
To just disgrace! Ere yet the morning peep,
BOOK III THE CHASE v. 39-61.
Or stars retire from the first blush of day,
With thy far-echoing voice alarm thy pack,
And rouse thy bold compeers. Then to the copse,
Thick with entangling grass, or prickly furze,
With silence lead thy many-colour’d hounds,
In all their beauty’s pride. See! how they range
Dispersed; how busily, this way and that,
They cross, examining, with curious nose,
Each likely haunt. Hark! on the drag I hear
Their doubtful notes, preluding to a cry
More nobly full, and swell’d with every mouth.
As straggling armies, at the trumpet’s voice,
Press to their standard; hither all repair,
And hurry through the woods with hasty step,
Rustling and full of hope; now, driven in heaps,
They push, they strive, while from his kennel sneaks
The conscious villain. See! he skulks along,
Sleek, at the shepherd’s cost, and plump, with meals
Purloin’d: so thrive the wicked here below.
Though high his brush he bear, though, tipp’d with white,
It gaily shine, yet ere the sun, declined,
Recall the shades of night, the pamper’d rogue
Shall rue his fate, reversed; and, at his heels,