Book IV.
THE CHACE.
109
Unnumber'd Accidents, and various Ills,
Attend thy Pack, hang hov'ring o'er their Heads,
And point the Way that leads to Death's dark Cave.
Short is their Span; few at the Date arrive
Of ancient Argus, in old Homer's Song 180
So highly honour'd: Kind, sagacious Brute!
Not ev'n Minerva's Wisdom cou'd conceal
Thy much lov'd Master from thy nicer Sense.
Dying his Lord he own'd, view'd him all o'er
With eager Eyes, then clos'd those Eyes, well pleas'd. 185
Attend thy Pack, hang hov'ring o'er their Heads,
And point the Way that leads to Death's dark Cave.
Short is their Span; few at the Date arrive
Of ancient Argus, in old Homer's Song 180
So highly honour'd: Kind, sagacious Brute!
Not ev'n Minerva's Wisdom cou'd conceal
Thy much lov'd Master from thy nicer Sense.
Dying his Lord he own'd, view'd him all o'er
With eager Eyes, then clos'd those Eyes, well pleas'd. 185
Of lesser Ills the Muse declines to sing,
Nor stoops so low; of these each Groom can tell
The proper Remedy. But O! what Care!
What Prudence can prevent Madness, the worst
Of Maladies? Terrifick Pest! that blasts 190
Nor stoops so low; of these each Groom can tell
The proper Remedy. But O! what Care!
What Prudence can prevent Madness, the worst
Of Maladies? Terrifick Pest! that blasts 190
The
