OTTER-HUNTING 



What clamour loud ! What gay, heart-cheering sounds 

 Urge through the breathing brass their mazy way ! 

 Not choirs of Tritons glad with sprightlier strains 

 The dancing billows, when proud Neptune rides 

 In triumph o'er the deep. How greedily 

 They snuff the fishy steam, that to each blade 

 Rank-scenting clings ! See ! how the morning dews 

 They sweep, that from their feet besprinkling drop 

 Dispersed, and leave a track oblique behind. 

 Now on firm land they range ; then in the flood 

 They plunge tumultuous ; or thro'' reedy pools 

 Rustling they work their way : no holt escapes 

 Their curious search. With quick sensation now 

 The foaming vapour stings; flutter their hearts, 

 And joy redoubled bursts from evVy mouth, 

 In laden symphonies. Yon hollow trunk, 

 That, with its hoary head incurved, salutes 

 The passing wave, must be the tyrant's fort, 

 And dread abode. How these impatient climb. 

 While others at the root incessant bay : 

 They put him down. See, there he dives along ! 

 Th' ascending bubbles mark his gloomy way. 

 Quick fix the nets, and cut off his retreat 

 Into the shelt'ring deeps. Ah, there he vents ! 

 The pack plunge headlong, and protruded spears 

 Menace destruction ; while the troubled surge 

 Indignant foams, and all the scaly kind 

 Affrighted hide their heads. Wild tumult reigns, 

 And loud uproar. Ah, there once more he vents ! 

 See, that bold hound has seiz'd him ; down they sink, 

 Together lost : but soon shall he repent 

 His rash assault. See, there escaped he flies, 

 Half-drown'd, and clambers up the slippVy bank 

 With ooze and blood distain'd. Of all the brutes, 

 Whether by nature form'd or by long use, 

 This artful diver best can bear the want 

 Of vital air. Unequal is the fight 

 Beneath the whelming element. Yet there 

 He lives not long ; but respiration needs 

 At proper intervals. Again he vents ; 



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