A CHECK. 169 



Ha I a check. Now for a moment''s patience. 

 We press too close upon the hounds ! Hunts- 

 man, stand still : as yet they want you not. 

 How admirably they spread I how wide they 

 cast ! Is there a single hound that does not 

 try ? if such a one there be, he ne''er shall hunt 

 again. There, Trueman is on the scent : he 

 feathers, yet still is doubtful : 'tis right ! how 

 readily they join him ! See those wide-casting 

 hounds, how they fly forward to recover the 

 ground they have lost ! Mind Lightnings how 

 she dashes ; and Mungo^ how he works ! Old 

 Frantic, too, now pushes forward : she knows, 

 as well as we, the fox is sinking. 



" Ha ! yet he flies, nor yields 

 To black despair. But one loose niore, and all 

 His wiles are vain. Hark ! through yon village now 

 The rattling clamour rings. The barns, the cots, 

 And leafless elms return the joyous sounds. 

 Through ev'ry homestall and through ev'ry yard, 

 His midnight walks, panting, forlorn, he flies : 



th' unerring hounds 



With peals of echoing vengeance close pursue." 



SOMKRVILE. 



Huntsman ! at fault at last .'' How far did 

 you bring the scent ? Have the hounds made 

 their own cast ? Now make yours. You 

 see that sheep-dog has been coursing the fox : 



