Immense to name their lands, to mark their bounds, 

 And paint the thousand families of hounds : 

 First count the sands, the drops where oceans flow, 

 Or Gauls by Marlborough sent to shades below, 

 The task be mine, to back Britannia's swains, 

 My much-lov'd country, and my native plains. 

 Such be the dog, I charge, thou mean'st to 

 train, 

 His back is crooked, and his belly plain, 

 Of fillet stretch'd, and huge of haunch behind, 

 A tapering tail, that nimbly cuts the wind ; 

 Truss-thigh'd, straight-ham'd, and fox-like form'd 



his paw, 

 Large-legg'd, dry-sol'd, and of protended claw. 

 His flat, wide nostrils snuff the savoury steam, 

 And from his eyes he shoots pernicious gleam ; 

 Middling his head, and prone to earth his view, 

 With ears and chest that dash the morning dew : 

 He best to stem the flock, to leap the bound, 

 And charm the Dryads with his voice profound ; 

 To pay large tribute to his weary lord, 

 And crown the sylvan hero's plenteous board. 

 The matron bitch whose womb shall best pro- 

 duce 

 The hopes and fortune of th' illustrious house, 

 Deriv'd from noble, but from foreign seed, 

 For various nature loaths incestuous breed, 

 Is like the sire throughout. 



7' 



