BOOK I THE CHASE v. 261-285.
Moil’d in the clogging clay, panting they lag
Behind inglorious; or else shivering they creep,
Benumb’d and faint, beneath the shelt’ring thorn.
For hounds of middle size, active and strong,
Will better answer all thy various ends,
And crown thy pleasing labours with success.
As some brave captain, curious and exact,
By his fix’d standard forms, in equal ranks,
His gay battalion, as one man they move,
Step after step, their size the same, their arms
Far gleaming, dart the same united blaze:
Reviewing generals his merit own;
How regular! how just! and all his cares
Are well repaid, if mighty George approve.
So model thou thy pack, if honour touch
Thy generous soul, and the world’s just applause.
But above all take heed, nor mix thy hounds
Of diff’rent kinds; discordant sounds shall grate
Thy ears offended, and a lagging line
Of babbling curs disgrace thy broken pack.
But if the amphibious otter be thy chase,
Or stately stag, that o’er the woodland reigns;
Or if the harmonious thunder of the field
Delight thy ravish’d ears; the deep-flew’d hound
Breed up with care, strong, heavy, slow, but sure,
BOOK I THE CHASE v. 286-310.
Whose ears, down-hanging from his thick round head,
Shall sweep the morning dew; whose clanging voice
Awake the mountain echo in her cell,
And shake the forests: the bold Talbot kind
Of these the prime, as white as Alpine snows;
And great their use of old. Upon the banks
Of Tweed, slow-winding through the vale, the seat
Of war and rapine once, ere Britons knew
The sweets of peace, or Anna’s dread commands
To lasting leagues the haughty rivals awed,
There dwelt a pilfering race; well train’d and skill’d
In all the mysteries of theft, the spoil
Their only substance, feuds and war their sport:
Not more expert in every fraudful art
The arch felon was of old, who by the tail
Drew back his lowing prize: in vain his wiles,
In vain the shelter of the covering rock,
In vain the sooty cloud, and ruddy flames,
That issued from his mouth; for soon he paid
His forfeit life; a debt how justly due
To wrong’d Alcides, and avenging Heaven!
Veil’d in the shades of night, they ford the stream,
Then prowling far and near, whate’er they seize
Becomes their prey; nor flocks nor herds are safe,
Nor stalls protect the steer, nor strong-barr’d doors
BOOK I THE CHASE v. 311-335.
Secure the favourite horse. Soon as the morn
Reveals his wrongs, with ghastly visage wan,
The plunder’d owner stands, and from his lips
A thousand thronging curses burst their way:
He calls his stout allies, and in a line
His faithful hound he leads; then, with a voice
That utters loud his rage, attentive cheers:
Soon the sagacious brute, his curling tail
Flourish’d in air, low-bending plies around
His busy nose, the steaming vapour snuffs
Inquisitive, nor leaves one turf untried;
Till, conscious of the recent stains, his heart
Beats quick; his snuffling nose, his active tail,
Attest his joy; then, with deep-opening mouth,
That makes the welkin tremble, he proclaims
The audacious felon; foot by foot he marks
His winding way, while all the listening crowd
Applaud his reasonings. O’er the watery ford,
Dry sandy heaths, and stony barren hills,
O’er beaten paths, with men and beasts distain’d,
Unerring he pursues; till at the cot
Arrived, and seizing by his guilty throat
The caitiff vile, redeems the captive prey:
So exquisitely delicate his sense!
Should some more curious sportsman here inquire,
BOOK I THE CHASE v. 336-360.
Whence this sagacity, this wond’rous power,
Of tracing step by step, or man or brute;
What guide invisible points out their way,
O’er the dank marsh, bleak hill, and sandy plain?
The courteous Muse shall the dark cause reveal.
The blood that from the heart incessant rolls
In many a crimson tide, then here and there,
In smaller rills disparted, as it flows,
Propell’d, the serous particles evade
Through the open pores, and, with the ambient air
Entangling, mix: as fuming vapours rise,
And hang upon the gently-purling brook,
There by the incumbent atmosphere compress’d.
The panting chase grows warmer as he flies,
And through the net-work of the skin perspires;
Leaves a long streaming trail behind, which, by
The cooler air condensed, remains, unless
By some rude storm dispersed, or rarefied
By the meridian sun’s intenser heat:
To every shrub the warm effluvia cling,
Hang on the grass, impregnate earth and skies:
With nostrils opening wide, o’er hill, o’er dale,
The vigorous hounds pursue, with every breath
Inhale their grateful steam; quick pleasures sting
Their tingling nerves, while they their thanks repay,
BOOK I THE CHASE v. 361-385.
And in triumphant melody confess
The titillating joy. Thus on the air
Depend the hunter’s hopes. When ruddy streaks
At eve, forebode a blust’ring stormy day,
Or lowering clouds blacken the mountain’s brow;
When nipping frosts, and the keen biting blasts
Of the dry parching east menace the trees,
With tender blossoms teeming, kindly spare
Thy sleeping pack, in their warm beds of straw
Low-sinking, at their ease; listless they shrink
Into some dark recess, nor hear thy voice,
Though oft invoked; or, haply, if thy call
Rouse up the slumbering tribe, with heavy eyes,
Glazed, lifeless, dull, downward they drop their tails
Inverted; high on their bent backs erect
Their pointed bristles stare; or ’mong the tufts
Of ranker weeds, each stomach-healing plant
Curious they crop, sick, spiritless, forlorn.
These inauspicious days, on other cares
Employ thy precious hours; the improving friend
With open arms embrace, and from his lips
Glean science, season’d with good-natured wit.
But if the inclement skies and angry Jove
Forbid the pleasing intercourse, thy books
Invite thy ready hand, each sacred page