168 THE FOX HEADED BACK. 



Now hastes the whipper-in to the other side 



the cover : he is right, unless he heads the fox. 



"Heav'ns! what melodious strains ! liow beat our hearts 

 ]iig with tumultuous joy ! the loaded gales 

 Breathe harmony ; and as the tempest drives 

 From wood to wood, through ev'rv dark recess 

 The forest thunders, and the mountains shake." 



SOMERVILE. 



Listen ! — the hounds have turned. They are 

 now in two parts. The fox has been headed 

 back, and we have changed at last. 



Now, my lad, mind the huntsman's halloo, 

 and stop to those hounds which he encourages. 

 He is right ! — that, doubtless, is the hunted 

 fox. Now they are off again. 



" What lengths we pass ! where will the wand'ring chase 

 Lead us bewilder'd ! Smooth as swallows skim 

 The new-shorn mead, and far more swift, we fly. 

 See my brave pack ! how to the head they press, 

 Jostling in close array, then more diffuse 

 Obliquely wheel, while fi'om their op'ning mouths 

 The vollied thunder breaks. 



Look back and view 



The strange contusion of the vale below, 



Where sore vexation reigns 



Old age laments 



His vigour spent : the tall, plumj), brawny youth 



Curses his cumbrous buik ; and envies now 



The short pygmean race, he whilom kenn'd 



With proud insulting leer. A chosen few 



Alone the sport enjoy, nor droop beneath 



Their pleasing toils." Somervjle. 



