Loud-clanging, and thy harsher voice obey ; 

 Spare not the straggling cur, that wildly roves ; 

 But let thy brisk assistant on his back 

 Imprint thy just resentments ; let each lash 

 Bite to the quick, till howling he return 

 And whining creep amid the trembling crowd. 



Here on this verdant spot, where Nature kind 

 With double blessings crowns the farmer's hopes ; 

 Where flow'rs autumnal spring, and the rank mead 

 Affords the wand'ring hares a rich repast, 

 Throw off thy ready pack. See, where they spread 

 And range around, and dash the glitt'ring dew. 

 If some stanch hound, with his authentic voice, 

 Avow the recent trail, the justling tribe 

 Attend his call, then with one mutual cry 

 The welcome news confirm, and echoing hills 

 Repeat the pleasing tale. See how they thread 

 The brakes, and up yon furrow drive along ! 

 But quick they recoil, and wisely check 

 Their eager haste ; then o'er the fallow'd ground 

 How leisurely they work, and many a pause 

 Th' harmonious concert breaks. 



• ■ ■ • 



Here, huntsman, bring 

 (But without hurry) all thy jolly hounds, 

 And calmly lay them in. How low they stoop, 

 And seem to plough the ground ! then all at once 

 With greedy nostrils snuff the fuming steam 



48 



