Thy way with flowers, and, as the royal youth Passing they view, admire and sigh in vain ; While crowded theatres, too fondly proud Of their exotic minstrels, and shrill pipes, The price of manhood, hail thee with a song, And airs soft-warbling; my hoarse-sounding horn Invites thee to the Chase, the sport of kings; Image of war, without its guilt. The Muse Aloft on wing shall soar, conduct with care Thy foaming courser o'er the steepy rock, Or on the river bank receive thee safe, Light-bounding o'er the wave, from shore to shore. Be thou our great protector, gracious youth! And if, in future times, some envious prince, Careless of right, and guileful, should invade Thy Britain's commerce, or should strive in vain To wrest 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 passage through th' embattled foe, And clear thy way to fame: inspir'd by thee The nobler chase of glory shall pursue
Through fire, and smoke, and blood, and fields of death.
Nature, in her productions slow, aspires By just degrees to reach perfection's height: So mimic Art works leisurely, till Time Improve the piece, or wise Experience give The proper finishing. When Nimrod bold, That mighty hunter, first made war on beasts, And stain'd the woodland-green with purple dye,
New, and unpolish'd was the huntsman's art; No stated rule, his wanton will his guide. With clubs and stones, rude implements of war, He arm'd his savage bands, a multitude Untrain'd; of twining osiers form'd, they pitch Their artless toils, then range the desert hills, And scour the plains below; the trembling herd Start at th' unusual sound, and clamorous shout Unheard before; surpris'd, alas! to find
Man now their foe, whom erst they deem'd their lord, But mild and gentle, and by whom as yet Secure they graz'd. Death stretches o'er the plain Wide-wasting, and grim slaughter red with blood: Urg'd on by hunger keen, they wound, they kill, Their rage licentious knows no bound; at last, Encumber'd with their spoils, joyful they bear Upon their shoulders broad the bleeding prey. Part on their altars smoke a sacrifice
To that all-gracious Power, whose bounteous hand Supports his wide creation; what remains On living coals they broil, inelegant Of taste, nor skill'd as yet in nicer arts Of pamper'd luxury. Devotion pure, And strong necessity, thus first began
The chase of beasts: though bloody was the deed, Yet without guilt. For the green herb alone Unequal to sustain man's labouring race,
Now every moving thing that liv'd on Earth Was granted him for food. * So just is Heaven, To give us in proportion to our wants.
Or chance or industry in after-time
Some few improvements made, but short as yet Of due perfection. In this isle remote
Our painted ancestors were slow to learn, To arms devote, of the politer arts
Nor skill'd nor studious; till from Neustria's coasts Victorious William, to more decent rules Subdu'd our Saxon fathers, taught to speak The proper dialect, with horn and voice
To cheer the busy bound, whose well-known cry His listening peers approve with joint acclaim. From him successive huntsmen learn'd to join In bloody social leagues, the multitude Dispers'd; to size, to sort their various tribes; To rear, feed, hunt, and discipline the pack.
Hail, happy Britain! highly favour'd isle, And Heaven's peculiar care! To thee 'tis given To train the sprightly steed, more fleet than those Begot by winds, or the celestial breed
That bore the great Pelides through the press Of heroes arm'd, and broke their crowded ranks; Which, proudly neighing, with the Sun begins Cheerful his course; and ere his beams decline, Has measur'd half thy surface unfatigued. In thee alone, fair land of liberty!
Is bred the perfect hound, in scent and speed As yet unrivall'd, while in other climes Their virtue fails, a weak degenerate race. In vain malignant steams and winter fogs Load the dull air, and hover round our coasts, The huntsman ever gay, robust, and bold, Defies the noxious vapour, and confides
In this delightful exercise, to raise
His drooping herd, and cheer his heart with joy. Ye vigorous youths, by smiling Fortune blest With large demesnes, hereditary wealth, Heap'd copious by your wise forefathers' care, Hear and attend! while I the means reveal T'enjoy those pleasures, for the weak too strong, Too costly for the poor: To rein the steed Swift stretching o'er the plain, to cheer the pack Opening in consorts of harmonious joy,
But breathing death. What though the gripe severe Of brazen-fisted Time, and slow disease
Creeping through every vein, and nerve unstrung, Afflict my shatter'd frame, undaunted still, Fix'd as a mountain ash, that braves the bolts Of angry Jove; though blasted, yet unfallen; Still can my soul in Fancy's mirrour view Deeds glorious once, recall the joyous scene In all its splendours deck'd, o'er the full bowl Recount iny triumphs past, urge others on With hand and voice, and point the winding way: Pleas'd with that social sweet garrulity,
The poor disbanded veteran's sole delight.
First let the kennel be the huntsman's care,
Upon some little eminence erect,
And fronting to the ruddy dawn; its courts On either hand wide opening to receive The Sun's all-cheering beams, when mild he shines, And gilds the mountain tops. For much the pack (Rous'd from their dark alcoves) delight to stretch And bask in his invigorating ray :
Warn'd by the streaming light and merry lark, ·
Forth rush the jolly clan; with tuneful throats They carol loud, and in grand chorus join'd Salute the new-born day. For not alone The vegetable world, but men and brutes Own his reviving influence, and joy
At his approach. Fountain of light! if chance Some envious cloud veil thy refulgent brow, In vain the Muses' aid; untouch'd, unstrung, Lies my mute harp, and thy desponding bard Sits darkly musing o'er th' unfinish'd lay.
Let no Corinthian pillars prop the dome, A vain expense, on charitable deeds
Better dispos'd, to clothe the tatter'd wretch, Who shrinks beneath the blast, to feed the poor, Pinch'd with afflictive want. For use, not state, Gracefully plain, let each apartment rise. O'er all let cleanliness preside, no scraps Bestrew the pavement, and no half-pick'd bones To kindle fierce debate, or to disgust
That nicer sense, on which the sportsman's hope, And all his future triumphs, must depend. Soon as the growling pack with eager joy Have lapp'd their smoking viands, morn or eve, From the full cistern lead the ductile streams, To wash thy court well pav'd, nor spare thy pains, For much to health will cleanliness avail. Seek'st thou for hounds to climb the rocky steep, And brush th' entangled covert, whose nice scent O'er greasy fallows and frequented roads Can pick the dubious way? Banish far off Each noisome stench, let no offensive smell
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