232 The Poets Beasts. 



But the hounds find her out, and the pack sees her sitting 

 on an eminence, " Ustening with one ear erect," and won- 

 dering what to do next, "pondering and doubtful what new 

 course to take." At length she decides to trust to her 

 heels again, and is off — 



" Once more, ye jovial train, your courage try." 



She has gone uphill, which takes it out of the hounds, and 

 down the steep other side, which takes it out of the riders ; 

 but " smoking along the vale," the hunt has the hare full in 

 view, A flock of sheep baulks the hounds for a while, but 

 they take up the " streaming scent " again, and " the rusthng 

 stubbles bend beneath the driving storm " of harriers — 



" Now the poor chase 

 Begins to flag, to her last shifts retiuced. 

 From brake to brake she flies, and visits all 

 Her well-known haunts, where once she ranged secure. 

 With love and plenty blessed. See ! there she goes ; 

 She reels along, and by her gait betrays 

 Her inward weakness. See how black she looks. 

 The sweat that clogs the obstructed pores scarce leaves 

 A languid scent. 



And now in open view 

 See, see ! she flies ; each eager hound exerts 

 His utmost speed, and stretches ev'ry nerve. 

 How quick she turns, their gaping jaws eludes, 

 And yet a moment lives, till round enclosed 

 By all the greedy pack, with infant screams 

 She yields her breath, and there, reluctant, dies." 



Alter this, of course, there is nothing to come but exulta- 

 tion and, for the houiuls, a taste of blood — 



" The huntsman now a decji incision makes, 



Sliakes out with liands impure, and dashes down, 



Her reeking entrails and yet quivering heart. 



These claim the pack, the bloody perquisite 



Of all their toils. Stretched on the ground she lies 



A mangled corse ; in her dim-glaring eyes 



Cold death exults and stiffens every limb." 



