Book III.
THE CHACE.
69
And claim him as their own. Was I not right? 145
See! there he creeps along; his Brush he drags,
And sweeps the Mire impure; from his wide Jaws
His Tongue unmoisten'd hangs; Symptoms too sure
Of sudden Death. Hah! yet he flies, nor yields
To black Despair. But one Loose more, and all
His Wiles are vain. Hark! thro' yon Village now
The rattling Clamour rings. The Barns, the Cots
And leafless Elms return the joyous Sounds.
Thro' ev'ry Homestall, and thro' ev'ry Yard,
His midnight Walks, panting, forlorn, he flies; 155
Thro' ev'ry Hole he sneaks, thro' ev'ry Jakes
Plunging he wades besmear'd, and fondly hopes
In a superior Stench to lose his own:
But faithful to the Track, th' unerring Hounds
With Peals of echoing Vengeance close pursue. 160
And now distress'd, no shelt'ring Covert near
Into the Hen-roost creeps, whose Walls with Gore
See! there he creeps along; his Brush he drags,
And sweeps the Mire impure; from his wide Jaws
His Tongue unmoisten'd hangs; Symptoms too sure
Of sudden Death. Hah! yet he flies, nor yields
To black Despair. But one Loose more, and all
His Wiles are vain. Hark! thro' yon Village now
The rattling Clamour rings. The Barns, the Cots
And leafless Elms return the joyous Sounds.
Thro' ev'ry Homestall, and thro' ev'ry Yard,
His midnight Walks, panting, forlorn, he flies; 155
Thro' ev'ry Hole he sneaks, thro' ev'ry Jakes
Plunging he wades besmear'd, and fondly hopes
In a superior Stench to lose his own:
But faithful to the Track, th' unerring Hounds
With Peals of echoing Vengeance close pursue. 160
And now distress'd, no shelt'ring Covert near
Into the Hen-roost creeps, whose Walls with Gore
Distain'd
