Away the flies; nor fhips with wind and tide,
And all their canvass wings, scud half so fast.
Once more, ye jovial train, your courage try,
And each clean courfer's fpeed. We fcour along,
In pleafing hurry and confufion toft;
Oblivion to be with'd. The patient pack
Hang on the scent unweary'd, up they climb,
And ardent we pursue; our labouring steeds
We prefs, we gore; till once the fummit gain'd,
Painfully panting; there we breathe a while;
Then, like a foaming torrent, pouring down
Precipitant, we fmoke along the vale.
Happy the man who with unrival'd speed
Can pafs his fellows, and with pleasure view
The struggling pack; how in the rapid course
Alternate they prefide, and jostling push
To guide the dubious fcent; how giddy youth
Oft babbling errs, by wifer age reprov'd;
How, niggard of his ftrength, the wife old hound
Hangs in the rear, till fome important point
Roufe all his diligence, or till the chace
Sinking he finds then to the head he springs
With thirt of glory fir'd, and wins the prize.
Huntsman, take keed; they stop in full career.
Yon crowding flocks, that at a distance gaze,
Have haply foil'd the turf. See! that old hound,
How bufily he works, but dares not trust
His doubtful fenfe; draw yet a wider ring.
Hark! now again the chorus fills. As bells,
Sally'd a while, at once their peal renew,
And high in air the tuneful thunder rolls.
See, how they tofs, with animated rage
Recovering all they loft !-That eager hafte
Some doubling wile foreshews,-Ah! yet once more
They're check'd,-hold back with speed-on either hand
They flourish round-ev'n yet persist—'Tis right,
Away they fpring; the rustling stubbles bend
Beneath the driving ftorm. Now the poor chace
Begins to flag, to her last shifts reduc'd.
From brake to brake fhe flies, and vifits all
Her well-known haunts, where once the rang'd fecure,
With love and plenty bleft. See! there the goes,
She reels along, and by her gait betrays
Her inward weakness. See, how black she looks!
The sweat, that clogs th' obftructed pores, fcarce leaves
A languid fcent. And now in open view
See, fee, fhe flies! each eager hound exerts
His utmost speed, and stretches every nerve.
How quick the turns! their gaping jaws eludes,
And yet a moment lives; till, round inclos'd
By all the greedy pack, with infant fcreams
She yields her breath, and there reluctant dies.
So when the furious Bacchanals affail'd
Threïcian Orpheus, poor ill-fated bard!
Loud was the cry; hills, woods, and Hebrus' banks,
Return'd their clamorous rage; diftrefs'd he flies,
Shifting from place to place, but flies in vain i
For eager they pursue, till panting, faint,
By noify multitudes o'erpower'd, he finks
To the relentless crowd a bleeding prey.
The huntsman now, a deep incifion made,
Shakes out with hands impure, and dashes down ⠀
Her reeking entrails and yet quivering heart.
Thefe claim the pack, the bloody perquifite
For all their toils. Stretch'd on the ground fhe lies
A mangled corfe; in her dim glaring eyes
Cold death exults, and stiffens every
Aw'd by the threatening whip, the furious hounds
Around her bay; or at their master's foot,
Each happy favourite courts his kind applause,
With humble adulation cowering low.
All now is joy. With cheeks full-blown they wind
Her folemn dirge, while the loud-opening pack
The concert fwell, and hills and dales return
The fadly-pleafing founds. Thus the poor hare, 295
A puny, dastard animal, but vers'd
In fubtle wiles, diverts the youthful train.
But if thy proud, afpiring foul difdains
So mean a prey, delighted with the pomp,
Magnificence, and grandeur of the chace;
Hear what the Muse from faithful records fings.
Why on the banks of Gemna, Indian stream,
Line within line, rife the pavilions proud,
Their filken ftreamers waving in the wind?
Why neighs the warrior horfe? From tent to tent, 305
Why prefs in crowds the buzzing multitude?
Why fhines the polish'd helm, and pointed lance,
This way and that far beaming o'er the plain?
Nor Vifapour nor Golconda rebel;
Nor the great Sophy, with his numerous hoft,
Lays wafte the provinces; nor glory fires
To rob and to destroy, beneath the name
And fpecious guise of war. A nobler caufe
Calls Aurengzebe to arms. No cities fack'd,
No mother's tears, no helpless orphan's cries,
No violated leagues, with sharp remorse
Shall fting the conscious victor: but mankind
Shall hail him good and just.
He draws his vengeful sword!
For 'tis on beafts
on beafts of prey
Full-fed with human gore. See, see, he comes !
Imperial Dehli, opening wide her gates,
Pours out her thronging legions, bright in arms,
And all the pomp of war. Before them found
Clarions and trumpets, breathing martial airs,
And bold defiance. High upon his throne,
Borne on the back of his proud elephant,
Sits the great chief of Tamur's glorious race:
Sublime he fits, amid the radiant blaze
Of gems and gold. Omrahs about him crowd,
And rein th' Arabian fteed, and watch his nod:
And potent Rajahs, who themselves prefide
O'er realms of wide extent; but here fubmifs
Their homage pay, alternate kings and flaves.
Next thefe, with prying eunuchs girt around,
The fair fultanas of his court: a troop
Of chofen beauties, but with care conceal'd
From each intrufive eye; one look is death.
Ah cruel Eastern law! (had kings a power
But equal to their wild tyrannic will)
To rob us of the fun's all-chearing ray,
Were lefs fevere. The vulgar close the march,
Slaves and artificers; and Dehli mourns
Her empty and depopulated streets.
Now at the camp arriv'd with ftern review,
Through groves of spears, from file to file he darts 345
His fharp experienc'd eye; their order marks,
Each in his station rang'd, exact and firm,
Till in the boundless line his fight is loft.
Not greater multitudes in arms appear'd
On thefe extended plains, when Ammon's fon
With mighty Porus in dread battle join'd,
The vaffal world the prize. Nor was that host
More numerous of old, which the great king*
Pour'd out on Greece from all th' unpeopled East;
That bridg'd the Hellefpont from shore to shore,
And drank the rivers dry. Mean while in troops
The bufy hunter-train mark out the ground,
A wide circumference; full many a league
In compass round; woods, rivers, hills, and plains,
Large provinces; enough to gratify
Ambition's highest aim, could reason bound
Man's erring will. Now fit in close divan
The mighty chiefs of this prodigious hoft.
He from the throne high-eminent prefides,
Gives out his mandates proud, laws of the chace, 365 From ancient records drawn. With reverence low,
And proftrate at his feet, the chiefs receive
His irreversible decrees, from which
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