Once snuff d, he follows with unalter'd aim, 

 Nor odours lure him from the chosen game ; 

 Deep-mouth'd he thunders, and inflam'd he views, 

 Springs on relentless, and to death pursues. 



Some hounds of manners vile, (nor less we find 

 Of fops in hounds, than in the reasoning kind,) 

 Puff' d with conceit run gladding o'er the plain, 

 And from the scent divert the wiser train ; 

 For the foe's footsteps fondly snuff their own, 

 And mar the music with their senseless tone ; 

 Start at the starting prey, or rustling wind, 

 And, hot at first, inglorious lag behind. 

 A sauntering tribe ! may such my foes disgrace ! 

 Give me, ye gods, to breed the nobler race. 

 Nor grieve thou to attend, while truths unknown 

 I sing, and make Athenian arts our own. 



Dost thou in hounds aspire to deathless fame ? 

 Learn well their lineage and their ancient stem. 

 Each tribe with joy old rustic heralds trace, 

 And sing the chosen worthies of their race ; 

 How his sire's features in the son were spy'd, 

 When Die was made the vigorous Ringwood's 



bride. 

 Less sure thick lips the fate of Austria doom, 

 Or eagle noses rul'd almighty Rome. 



Good shape to various kinds old bards confine, 

 Some praise the Greek, and some the Roman line ; 

 And dogs to beauty make as differing claims, 

 As Albion's nymphs, and India's jetty dames. 



70 



