Another fault which often may befall, Is, when the wit of fome great poet shall So overflow, that is, be none at all, That ev'n his fools fpcak fenfe, as if poffeft, And each by inspiration breaks his jeft. If once the juftnefs of each part be loft, Well may we laugh, but at the poct's coft. That filly thing men call theer-wit avoid, With which our age fo naufeously is cloy'd: Humour is all; wit fhould be only brought To turn agreeably fome proper thought.

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But fince the poets we of late have known
Shine in no drefs fo much as in their own,
The better by example to convince,
Caft but a view on this wrong fide of fenfe.
Firt, a foliloquy is calmly made,
Where ev'ry reafon is exactly weigh'd;
Which once perform'd, mott opportunely comes
Some hero frighted at the noife of drums;
For her sweet fake, whom at first sight he loves,
And all in metaphor his paflion proves :
But fome fad accident, though yet unknown,
Parting this pair, to leave the fwain alone;
He ftraight grows jealous, tho' we know not
why;

Then, to oblige his rival, needs will die:
But first he makes a fpeech, wherein he tells
The abfent nymph how much his flame excels;
And yet bequeaths her generously now,
To that lov'd rival whom he does not know!

Who ftraight appears; but who can fate withstand?
Too late, alas! to hold his hafty hand,
That juft has given himself the cruel ftroke!
At which his very rival's heart is broke:
He, more to his new friend than mittrefs kind,
Moft fadly mourns at being left behind;
Of fuch a death prefers the pleafing charms
To love, and living in a lady's arms.
What fhameful and what imonftrous things are
thefe !

And then they rail at those they cannot please:
Conclude us only partial to the dead,
And grudge the fign of old Ben Jonfon's head;
When the intrinfic value of the stage

Can scarce be judg`d but by a following age:
For dances, flutes, Italian fongs, and rhyme
May keep up finking nonfenfe for a time;
But that must fail, which now fo much o'er-rules,
And fenfe no longer will submit to fools.

By painful steps at laft we labour up
Parnaffus' hill, on whofe bright airy top
The epic poets fo divinely fhew,
And with juft pride behold the rest below.
Heroic poems have a just pretence
To be the utmost stretch of human sense;
A work of fuch ineftimable worth,

There are but two the world has yet brought forth!

Homer and Virgil! with what facred awe
Do thofe mere founds the world's attention draw!
Just as a changeling feems below the rest
Of men, or rather is a two-legg'd beast,
So thefe gigantic fouls, amaz'd, we find
As much above the rest of human kind!

Nature's whole strength united! endless fame,
And univerfal fhouts, attend their name!
Read Homer once, and you can read no more,
For all books elfe appear fo mean, fo poor,
Verte will feem profe; but ftill perfift to read,
And Homer will be all the books you need.
Had Boffu never writ, the world had still
Like Indians view'd this wondrous piece of
kill;

As fomething of divine the work admir'd
Not hop'd to be inftructed, but infpir'd :
But he, difclofing facred myfteries,

Has fhewn where all the mighty magic lies;
Defcrib'd the feeds, and in what order fown,
That have to fuch a vaft proportion grown.
Sure from fome angel he the fecret knew,
Who through this labyrinth has lent the clue.

But what, alas ! avails it poor mankind, To fee this promis'd land, yet ftay behind? The way is fhewn, but who has strength to go? Who can all feiences profoundly know? Whofe fancy flies beyond weak Reafon's fight, And yet has judgment to direct it right? Whole juft difcernment, Virgil-like, is fuch, Never to fay too little or too much? Let fuch a man begin without delay; But he must do beyond what i can fay; Muft above Taffo's lofty flights prevail, Succeed where Spenfer and ev'n Milton fail.

§ 51. The Chace. SOMERVILle. BOOK I.

THE ARGUMENT.

The fabject propofed. Addrefs to bis Royal Highness the Prince. The origin of bunting. The rudde and unpolifbed manner of the faft bunters. Beafts at firft bunted for food and facrifice. The grant made by God to man of the beafts, &c. The regular manner of bunting firft brought into this iland by the Normans. The best bounds and beft borfes bred bere. The advantage of this exercije to us, as iflanders. Addrefs to gentlemen of ftates. Situation of the kennel, and its ferveral courts. The diversion and employment of bounds in the kennel. The different forts of bounds for cach different chace. Defcription of a perfect bound. Of fizing and forting of bounds; the middle-fized bound recommended. Of the large deep-mouthed bound for bunting the flag and Of the lime-bound; their ufe on the borders of England and Scotland. A phyfical account of fcents. Of good and bad feenting days. A bort admonition to my brethren of the couples. THE Chace I fing, hounds, and their various

olter.

breed

Thy way with flow'rs, and as the Royal Youth
Paffing they view, admire, and figh in vain;
While crowded theatres, too fondly proud
Of their exotic minstrels and fhrill pipes,
The price of manhood, hail thee with a fong,
And airs foft warbling; my hoarfe-founding horn
Invites thee to the Chace, the sport of kings;
Image of war without its guilt. The Mufe
Aloft on wing fhall foar, condu&t with care
Thy foaming courfer o'er the fteepy rock,
Or on the river bank receive thee fafe,
Light bounding o'er the wave from shore to shore.
Be thou our great protector, gracious Youth;
And if, in future times, fome envious prince,
Careless of right, and guileful, fhould invade
Thy Britain's commerce, or fhould strive in vain
To wreft the balance from thy equal hand,
Thy hunter-train, in cheerful green array'd
(A band undaunted, and inur'd to toils),
Shall compass thee around, die at thy feet,
Or hew thy paffage thro' th' embattled foe,
And clear thy way to fame: infpir'd by thee,
The nobler chace of glory thall purfue
Thro' fire, and smoke, and blood, and fields of
death.

Nature, in her productions flow, afpires By juft degrees to reach perfection's height: So mimic Art works leifurely, till Time Improve the piece, or wife Experience give The proper finishing. When Nimrod bold, That mighty hunter! firft made war on beafts, And ftain'd the woodland green with purple dye, New and unpolifh'd was the huntsman's art; No ftated rule, his wanton will his guide. With clubs and ftones, rude implements of war! He arm'd his favage bands, a multitude Untrain'd of twining ofiers form'd, they pitch Their artlefs toils, then range the defert hills, And fcour the plains below: the trembling herd Start at th' unufual found, and clam'rous fhout Unheard before; furpris'd, alas! to find [lord, Man now their foe, whom erft they deem'd their But mild and gentle, and by whom as yet Secure they graz'd. Death ftretches o'er the plain Wide wafting, and grim Slaughter, red with blood; Urg'd on by hunger keen, they wound, they kill; Their rage licentious knows no bound: at laft, Encumber'd with their fpoils, joyful they bear Upon their fhoulders broad the bleeding prey. Part on their altars fmokes, a facrifice To that all-gracious Pow'r whose bounteous hand Supports his wide creation; what remains On living coals they broil, inelegant Of tafte, nor fkill'd as yet in nicer arts Of pamper'd luxury. Devotion pure, And ftrong neceflity, thus first began The chace of beafts; tho' bloody was the deed, Yet without guilt: for the green herb alone Unequal to fuftain man's lab'ring race, Now ev'ry moving thing that liv'd on earth Was granted him for food. So juft is Heaven, To give us in proportion to our wants.

Or chance or industry in after times
Some few improvements made, but short as yet
Of due perfection. In this ifle remote
Our painted ancestors were flow to learn:
To arms devote, in the politer arts

Nor skill'd nor ftudious; till from Neuftria's coafts
Victorious William to more decent rules
Subdued our Saxon fathers, taught to speak
The proper dialect, with horn and voice
To cheer the bufy hound, whofe well-known cry
His lift'ning peers approve with joint acclaim.
From him fucceffive huntsmen learn'd to join
In bloody focial leagues the multitude
Difpers'd, to fize, to fort their various tribes;
To rear, feed, hunt, and difcipline the pack.

Hail, happy Britain! highly favour'd ifle,
And Heaven's peculiar care! to thee 'tis given
To train the fprightly steed, more fleet than those
Begot by winds, or the celeftial breed
That bore the great Pelides thro' the prefs
Of heroes arm'd, and broke their crowded ranks,
Which proudly neighing, with the fun begins
Cheerful his courfe, and ere his beams decline,
Has meafur'd half thy furface unfatigued.
In thee alone, fair land of Liberty!
Is bred the perfect hound, in fcent and speed
As yet unrivall'd, while in other climes
Their virtue fails, a weak degen'rate race.
In vain malignant steams and winter fogs
Load the dull air, and hover round our coafts;
The huntfman, ever gay, robust, and bold,
Defies the noxious vapour, and confides
In this delightful exercise to raise
His drooping head, and cheer his heart with joy.
Ye vig'rous youths! by finiling Fortune bleft
With large demefnes, hereditary wealth,
Heap'd copious by your wife forefathers' care,
Hear and attend! while I the means reveal
T' enjoy thefe pleafures, for the weak too ftrong,
Too coftly for the poor: to rein the steed
Swift ftretching o'er the plain, to cheer the pack
Op'ning in concerts of harmonious joy,
But breathing death. What tho' the gripe fevere
Of brazen-fifted Time, and flow Difcafe
Creeping thro' ev'ry vein, and nerve unftrung,
Afflict my thatter'd frame, undaunted ftill,
Fix'd as a mountain-afh, that braves the bolts
Of angry Jove, tho' blasted, yet unfallen;
Still can my foul in Fancy's mirror view
Deeds glorious once, recall the joyous fcene
In all its fplendours deck'd, o'er the full bowl
Recount my triumphs past, urge others on
With hand and voice, and point the winding way;
Pleas'd with that focial fweet garrulity,
The poor disbanded veteran's fole delight.

Firft let the kennel be the huntsman's care, Upon fome little eminence erect, And fronting to the ruddy lawn; its courts On either hand wide op'ning to receive The fun's all-cheering beams, when mild he fhines, And gilds the mountain tops: for much the pack (Rous'd from their dark alcoves) delight to ftretch,

Obferve, nor the large hound prefer, of size
Gigantic; he in the thick-woven covert
Painfully tugs, or in the thorny brake
Torn and embarrass'd bleeds: but if too fmall,
The pigmy brood in ev'ry furrow swims;
Moil'd in the clogging clay, panting they lag
Behind inglorious; or elfe fhiv'ring creep,
Benumb'd and faint, beneath the feltering thorn:
For hounds of middle fize, active and ftrong,
Will better anfwer all thy various ends,
And crown thy pleasing labours with fuccefs.
As fome brave captain, curious and exact,
By his fix'd ftandard forms in equal ranks
His gay battalion, as one man they move
Step after step, their fize the fame, their arms
Far-gleaming dart the fame united blaze;
Reviewing generals his merit own;
How regular! how juft! and all his cares
Are well repaid if mighty George approve :
So model thou thy pack, if honour touch
Thy gen'rous foul, and the world's just applause.
But above all take heed, nor mix thy hounds
Of diff'rent kinds; difcordant founds fhall grate
Thy ears offended, and a lagging line
Of babbling curs difgrace thy broken pack.
But if th' amphibious otter be thy chace,
Or ftately tag that o'er the woodland reigns;
Or if th' harmonious thunder of the field
Delight thy ravish'd ears; the deep-flew'd hound
Breed up with care, ftrong, heavy, flow, but fure;
Whofe ears down-hanging from his thick round
head

Shall sweep the morning dew,whofe clanging voice
Awake the mountain Echo in her cell,
And flake the forefts: the bold talbot kind
Of these the prime, as white as Alpine fnews,
And great their ufe of old. Upon the banks
Of Tweed, flow winding thro' the vale, the feat
Of war and rapine once, ere Britons knew
The fweets of peace, or Anna's dread commands
To lafting leagues the haughty rivals aw'd,
There dwelt a pilf 'ring race, well train'd and skill'd
In all the mysteries of theft, the spoil
Their only fubftance, feuds and war their fport;
Not more expert in ev'ry fraudful art

Th' arch feion was of old, who by the tail
Drew back his lowing prize: in vain his wiles,
In vain the shelter of the cov'ring rock,
In vain the footy cloud and ruddy flames
That iffued from his mouth for foon he paid
His forfeit life; a debt how justly due
To wrong'd Alcides and avenging Heaven!
Veil'd in the fhades of night they tord the ftream,
Then prowling far and near, whate'er they feize
Becomes their prey; nor flocks nor herds are fafe,
Nor ftalls protect the fteer, nor ftrong-barr'd doors
Secure the fav'rite horfe. Soon as the morn
Reveals his wrongs, with ghaftly vifage wan
The plunder'd owner ftands, and from his lips
A thoufand thronging curfes burft their
Ile calls his ftout allies, and in a line
His faithful hound he leads, then with a voice

way:

That utters loud his rage, attentive cheers:
Soon the fagacious brute, his curling tail
Flourish'd in air, low bending plies around
His buty note, the fteaming vapour snuffs
Inquifitive, nor leaves one turf untried,
Till, confcious of the recent ftains, his heart
Beats quick; his fnuffing nofe, his active tail,
Atteft his joy; then with deep-opening mouth,
That makes the welkin tremble, he proclaims
Th' audacious felon : foot by foot he marks
His winding way, while all the lift'ning crowd
Applaud his reas'nings. O'er the wạt ry ford,
Dry fandy heaths, and ftony barren hills,
O'er beaten paths with men and beafts' difiain'd,
Unerring he purfues, till at the cot
Arriv'd, and feizing by his guilty throat
The caitiff vile, redeems the captive prey:
So exquifitely delicate his fenfe!

Should fomemore curious fportfinan here enquire
Whence this fagacity, this wondrous pow'r
Of tracing step by step or man or brute ?
What guide invifible points out their way
O'er the dank marfh, bleak hill, and fandy plain?
The courteous Mufe fhall the dark caufe reveal.
The blood that from the heart inceffant rolls
In many a crimson tide, then here and there
In fmaller rills difparted, as it flows
Propell'd, the ferous particles evade
Thro' th' open pores, and with the ambient air
Entangling mix. As fuming vapours rise,
And hang upon the gently-purling-brook,
There by th' incumbent atmosphere comprefs'd,
The panting chace grows warmer as he flies,
And thro' the net-work of the skin perspires,
Leaves a long ftreaming trail behind, which by
The cooler air condens'd, remains, unlets
By fome rude ftorm difpers'd, or rarefied
By the meridian fun's intenfer heat.
To eviy fhrub the warm effluvia cling,
Hang on the grafs, impregnate earth and skies.
With noftails op'ning wide, o'er hill, o'er dale,
The vig'rous hounds purfue, with ev'ry breath
Inhale the grateful fteam, quick pleasures fting
Their tingling nerves, while they their thanks

repay,

And in triumphant melody confess
The titillating joy. Thus on the air
Depend the hunter's hopes. When ruddy ftreaks
At eve forebode a bluft ring ftormy day,
Or low'ring clouds blacken the mountain's brow;
When nipping frofts, and the keen biting blaits
Of the dry-parching eaft, menace the trees,
With tender blooms teeming, kindly spare
Thy ceping pack, in their warm beds of straw
Low-finking at their ease! liftlefs, they shrink
Into fome dark recefs, nor hear thy voice,
Tho' oft invok'd; or haply if thy call
Roufe up the flumb'ring tribe, with heavy eyes,
Glaz'd, lifelefs, dull, downward they drop their

tails

Of