52 The Chase 



you see they have over-run the scent : have a h'ttle 

 patience, and let them, for once, try back. 



We must now give them time. See where they 

 bend towards yonder furze brake ! — I wish he may 

 have stopped there ! — Mind that old hound, how he 

 dashes o'er the furze ; I think he winds him ! — 

 Now for a fresh entapis ! Hark ! they halloo ! 

 Aye, there he goes ! 



It is nearly over with him : had the hounds 

 caught view, he must have died. He will hardly 

 reach the cover. See how they gain upon him at 

 every stroke ! — It is an admirable race ! — yet the 

 cover saves him. Now be quiet, and he cannot 

 escape us : we have the wind of the hounds, and 

 cannot be better placed. How short he runs ! — 

 He is now in the very strongest part of the cover. 

 What a crash ! — every hound is in, and every 

 hound is running for him. That was a quick 

 turn ! — Again another ! — he's put to his last shifts. 

 Now Mischief is at his heels, and death is not far 

 off. Ha ! they all stop at once : all silent, and yet 

 no earth is open. Listen ! now they are at him 

 again ! — Did you hear that hound catch view ? — 

 They over-ran the scent, and the fox had laid down 

 behind them. Now, Reynard, look to yourself! 

 — How quick they all give their tongues ! — Little 

 Dreadnought^ how he works him ! — The terriers, 

 too, they are now squeaking at him. How close 

 Vengeance pursues ! how terribly she presses ! — It is 

 just up with him ! — Gods ! what a crash they 

 make ! the whole wood resounds ! — That turn was 

 very short ! — There ! now — aye, now they have 

 him ! — Who-hoop ! 



Peter Beckford, 



