84
THE CHACE.
Book III.
Whose Honour 'tis to glad the Hearts of Kings.
But soon the winding Horn, and Huntsman's Voice,
Let loose the gen'ral Chorus; far around
Joy spreads its Wings, and the gay Morning smiles.
But soon the winding Horn, and Huntsman's Voice,
Let loose the gen'ral Chorus; far around
Joy spreads its Wings, and the gay Morning smiles.
Unharbour'd now the royal Stag forsakes 405
His wonted Lair; he shakes his dappled Sides,
And tosses high his beamy Head, the Copse
Beneath his Antlers bends. What doubling Shifts
He tries! not more the wily Hare; in these
Wou'd still persist, did not the full-mouth'd Pack
With dreadful Consort thunder in his Rear.
The Woods reply, the Hunter's chearing Shouts
Float thro' the Glades, and the wide Forest rings.
How merrily they chant! their Nostrils deep
Inhale the grateful Steam. Such is the Cry, 415
And such th' harmonious Din, the Soldier deems
The Battle kindling, and the Statesman grave
His wonted Lair; he shakes his dappled Sides,
And tosses high his beamy Head, the Copse
Beneath his Antlers bends. What doubling Shifts
He tries! not more the wily Hare; in these
Wou'd still persist, did not the full-mouth'd Pack
With dreadful Consort thunder in his Rear.
The Woods reply, the Hunter's chearing Shouts
Float thro' the Glades, and the wide Forest rings.
How merrily they chant! their Nostrils deep
Inhale the grateful Steam. Such is the Cry, 415
And such th' harmonious Din, the Soldier deems
The Battle kindling, and the Statesman grave
Forgets
