320 The Poets Beasts. 



" Oh ! how glorious 'tis 

 To right th' oppressed, and bring the felon vile 

 To just disgrace ! " 



And then follows a eulogy of fox-hunting — 



" Heav'ns ! what melodious strains, how beat our hearts, 

 Big with tumultuous joy ! The loaded gales 

 Breathe harmony ; and as the tempest drives 

 From wood to wood, thro' every dark recess 

 The forest thunders, and the mountains shake. 

 The chorus swells. 



See how they range 

 Dispersed, how busily this way and that 

 They cross, examining with curious nose 

 Each likely haunt. Hark ! on the drag I hear 

 Their doubtful notes, preluding to a cry 

 More nobly full, and swelled with ev'ry mouth. 



The gay pack 

 In the rough bristly stubbles range unblamed. 

 No widow's tears o'erflow, no secret curse 

 Swells in the farmer's breast, which his pale lips 

 Trembling conceal, by his fierce landlord awed ; 

 But courteous now he levels every fence, 

 Joins in the common cry, and halloos loud, 

 Charmed with the rattling thunder of the field." 



The book then proceeds to give instructions for catching 

 foxes in traps, and thence digresses to pitfalls for lions and 

 elephants, with some hints how to hunt leopards with 

 looking-glasses, returning again to England with an account 

 of the royal staghounds out in Windsor Forest, remarkable, 

 apart from the ecstatic narrative of the actual hunt, for an 

 address to the ladies in the field — 



" How melts my beating heart ! as I behold 

 Each lovely nymph, our island's boast and pride, 

 Their garments loosely waving in the wind. 

 And all the flush of beauty in their cheeks ! 



