That glads their fluttering hearts. As winds let 



loose 

 From the dark caverns of the blust'ring god, 

 They burst away, and sweep the dewy lawn. 

 Hope gives them wings while she's spur'd on by fear. 

 The welkin rings, men, dogs, hills, rocks, and 



woods 

 In the full concert join. Now, my brave youths, 

 Stript for the chace, give all your souls to joy ! 



Once more, ye jovial train, your courage try, 

 And each clean courser's speed. We scour along, 

 In pleasing hurry and confusion tost ; 

 Oblivion to be wish'd. The patient pack 

 Hang on the scent unweary'd, up they climb, 

 And ardent we pursue ; our lab'ring steeds 

 We press, we gore ; till once the summit gain'd, 

 Painfully panting, there we breathe a while ; 

 Then like a foaming torrent, pouring down 

 Precipitant, we smoke along the vale. 

 Happy the man who with unrival'd speed 

 Can pass his fellows, and with pleasure view 

 The struggling pack ; how in the rapid course 

 Alternate they preside, and justling push 

 To guide the dubious scent ; how giddy youth 

 Oft babbling errs, by wiser age reprov'd ; 

 How, niggard of his strength, the wise old hound 

 Hangs in the rear, till some important point 

 Rouse all his diligence, or till the chace 

 E 49 



