The Chace/Book 4
The Argument of the Fourth Book.
Of the Necessity of destroying some Beasts, and preserving others for the Use of Man. Of breeding of Hounds; the Season for this Business. The Choice of the Dog, of great Moment. Of the Litter of Whelps. Of the Number to be rear'd. Of setting them out to their several Walks. Care to be taken to prevent their Hunting too soon. Of ent'ring the Whelps. Of breaking them from running at Sheep. Of the Diseases of Hounds. Of their Age. Of Madness; two Sorts of it described, the Dumb, and outragious Madness: It's dreadful Effects. Burning of the Wound recommended as preventing all ill Consequences. The infectious Hounds to be separated, and fed apart. The Vanity of trusting to the many infallible Cures for this Malady. The dismal Effects of the Biting of a Mad Dog, upon Man described. Description of the Otter Hunting. The Conclusion.
BOOK the Fourth.
Whate'er of Earth is form'd, to Earth returnsDissolv'd: the various Objects we behold,Plants, Animals, this whole material Mass,Are ever changing, ever new. The SoulOf Man alone, that Particle divine, 5Escapes the Wreck of Worlds, when all Things fail.Hence great the Distance 'twixt the Beasts that perish,And God's bright Image, Man's immortal Race.The Brute Creation are his Property,Subservient to his Will, and for him made. 10 As hurtful these he kills, as useful thosePreserves; their sole and arbitrary King.Shou'd he not kill, as erst the Samian SageTaught unadvis'd, and Indian Brachmans nowAs vainly preach; the teeming rav'nous Brutes 15Might fill the scanty Space of this Terrene,Incumb'ring all the Globe: Shou'd not his CareImprove his growing Stock, their Kinds might fail,Man might once more on Roots, and Acorns feed,And thro' the Deserts range, shiv'ring, forlorn, 20Quite destitute of ev'ry Solace dear,And ev'ry smiling Gayety of Life.
The prudent Huntsman therefore will supplyWith annual large Recruits, his broken Pack,And propagate their Kind. As from the Root 25Fresh Scions still spring forth, and daily yieldNew blooming Honours to the Parent-Tree. Far shall his Pack be fam'd, far sought his Breed,And Princes at their Tables feast those HoundsHis Hand presents, an acceptable Boon. 30
E'er yet the Sun thro' the bright Ram has urg'dHis steepy Course, or Mother Earth unboundHer frozen Bosom to the Western Gale;When feather'd Troops, their social Leagues dissolv'd,Select their Mates, and on the leafless Elm 35The noisy Rook builds high her wicker Nest;Mark well the wanton Females of thy Pack,That curl their taper Tails, and frisking courtTheir pyebald Mates enamour'd; their red EyesFlash Fires impure; nor Rest, nor Food they take,Goaded by furious Love. In sep'rate CellsConfine them now, lest bloody Civil WarsAnnoy thy peaceful State. If left at large, The growling Rivals in dread Battle join,And rude Encounter. On Scamander's Streams 45Heroes of old with far less Fury fought,For the bright Spartan Dame, their Valour's Prize.Mangled and torn thy fav'rite Hounds shall lie,Stretch'd on the Ground; thy Kennel shall appearA Field of Blood: like some unhappy Town 50In Civil Broils confus'd, while Discord shakesHer bloody Scourge aloft, fierce Parties rage,Staining their impious Hands in mutual Death.And still the best belov'd, and bravest fall:Such are the dire Effects of lawless Love. 55
Huntsman! these Ills by timely prudent CarePrevent: for ev'ry longing Dame selectSome happy Paramour; to him aloneIn Leagues connubial join. Consider wellHis Lineage; what his Fathers did of old, 60 Chiefs of the Pack, and first to climb the Rock,Or plunge into the Deep, or thread the BrakeWith Thorns sharp-pointed, plash'd, and Briars inwoven.Observe with Care his Shape, Sort, Colour, Size.Nor will sagacious Huntsmen less regard 65His inward Habits; the vain Babbler shun,Ever loquacious, ever in the wrong.His foolish Offspring shall offend thy EarsWith false Alarms, and loud Impertinence.Nor less the shifting Cur avoid, that breaks 70Illusive from the Pack; to the next HedgeDevious he strays, there ev'ry Muse he tries,If haply then he cross the streaming Scent,Away he flies vain glorious; and exultsAs of the Pack supreme, and in his Speed 71And Strength unrivall'd. Lo! cast far behindHis vex'd Associates pant, and lab'ring strain To climb the steep Ascent. Soon as they reachTh'insulting Boaster, his false Courage fails,Behind he lags, doom'd to the fatal Noose, 80His Master's Hate, and Scorn of all the Field.What can from such be hop'd, but a base BroodOf coward Curs, a frantick, vagrant Race?
When now the third revolving Moon appears,With sharpen'd Horns, above th' Horizon's Brink;Without Lucina's Aid, expect thy HopesAre amply crown'd; short Pangs produce to LightThe smoking Litter, crawling, helpless, blind,Nature their Guide, they seek the pouting TeatThat plenteous streams. Soon as the tender Dam 90Has form'd them with her Tongue, with Pleasure viewThe Marks of their renown'd Progenitors,Sure Pledge of Triumphs yet to come. All these Select with Joy; but to the merc'less FloodExpose the dwindling Refuse, nor o'erload 95Th' indulgent Mother. If thy Heart relent,Unwilling to destroy, a Nurse provide,And to the Foster-Parent give the CareOf thy superfluous Brood; she'll cherish kindThe Alien Offspring; pleas'd thou shalt behold 100Her Tenderness, and hospitable Love.
If frolick now, and play-full they desertTheir gloomy Cell, and on the verdant TurfWith Nerves improv'd, pursue the mimick Chace,Coursing around; unto thy choicest Friends 150Commit thy valu'd Prize: The rustick DamesShall at thy Kennel wait, and in their LapsReceive thy growing Hopes, with many a KissCaress, and dignify their little ChargeWith some great Title, and resounding Name 110 Of high Import. But cautious here observeTo check their youthful Ardour, nor permitThe unexperienc'd Younker, immature,Alone to range the Woods, or haunt the BrakesWhere dodging Conies sport: His Nerves unstrung,And Strength unequal; the laborious ChaceShall stint his Growth, and his rash forward YouthContract such vicious Habits, as thy CareAnd late Correction never shall reclaim.
When to full Strength arriv'd, mature and bold,Conduct them to the Field; not all at once,But as thy cooler Prudence shall direct,Select a few, and form them by DegreesTo stricter Discipline. With these consortThe Stanch, and steddy Sages of thy Pack, 125By long Experience vers'd in all the Wiles,And subtle Doublings of the various Chace. Easy the Lesson of the youthful Train,When Instinct prompts, and when Example guides.If the too forward Younker at the Head 130Press boldly on, in wanton sportive Mood,Correct his Haste, and let him feel abash'dThe ruling Whip. But if he stoop behindIn wary modest Guise, to his own NoseConfiding sure; give him full Scope to work 135His winding Way, and with thy Voice applaudHis Patience, and his Care; soon shalt thou viewThe hopeful Pupil Leader of his Tribe,And all the list'ning Pack attend his Call.
Oft lead them forth where wanton Lambkins play, 140And bleating Dams with jealous Eyes observeTheir tender Care. If at the crowding FlockHe bay presumptuous, or with eager Haste Pursue them scatter'd o'er the verdant Plain;In the foul Fact attach'd, to the strong Ram 145Tye fast the rash Offender. See! at firstHis horn'd Companion, fearful, and amaz'd,Shall drag him trembling o'er the rugged Ground:Then with his Load fatigued, shall turn a Head,And with his curl'd hard Front incessant peal 150The panting Wretch; 'till breathless and astunn'd,Stretch'd on the Turf he lie. Then spare not thouThe twining Whip, but ply his bleeding SidesLash after Lash, and with thy threat'ning Voice,Harsh-echoing from the Hills, inculcate loud 155His vile Offence. Sooner shall trembling DovesEscap'd the Hawk's sharp Talons, in mid Air,Assail their dang'rous Foe, than he once moreDisturb the peaceful Flocks. In tender AgeThus Youth is train'd; as curious Artists bend 160 The taper, pliant Twig; or Potters formTheir soft and ductile Clay to various Shapes.
Nor is't enough to breed; but to preserveMust be the Huntsman's Care. The stanch old Hounds,Guides of thy Pack, tho' but in Number few, 165Are yet of great Account; shall oft untyeThe Gordian Knot, when Reason at a standPuzzling is lost, and all thy Art is vain.O'er clogging Fallows, o'er dry plaster'd Roads,O'er floated Meads, o'er Plains with Flocks distain'dRank-scenting, these must lead the dubious Way.As Party-Chiefs in Senates who preside,With pleaded Reason and with well-turn'd SpeechConduct the staring Multitude; so theseDirect the Pack, who with joint Cry approve, 175And loudly boast Discov'ries not their own.
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 arriveOf ancient Argus, in old Homer's Song 180So highly honour'd: Kind, sagacious Brute!Not ev'n Minerva's Wisdom cou'd concealThy much lov'd Master from thy nicer Sense.Dying his Lord he own'd, view'd him all o'erWith 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 tellThe proper Remedy. But O! what Care!What Prudence can prevent Madness, the worstOf Maladies? Terrifick Pest! that blasts 190 The Huntsman's Hopes, and Desolation spreadsThro' all th' unpeopled Kennel unrestrain'd.More fatal than th' envenom'd Viper's Bite;Or that Apulian Spider's pois'nous Sting,Heal'd by the pleasing Antidote of Sounds. 195
When Sirius reigns, and the Sun's parching BeamsBake the dry gaping Surface, visit thouEach Ev'n and Morn, with quick observant Eye,Thy panting Pack. If in dark sullen Mood,The glouting Hound refuse his wonted Meal, 200Retiring to some close, obscure Retreat,Gloomy, disconsolate: With Speed removeThe poor infectious Wretch, and in strong ChainsBind him suspected. Thus that dire DiseaseWhich Art can't cure, wise Caution may prevent.
But this neglected, soon expect a Change,A dismal Change, Confusion, Frenzy, Death.Or in some dark Recess, the senseless BruteSits sadly pining: Deep Melancholy,And black Despair, upon his clouded Brow 210Hang low'ring; from his half-op'ning JawsThe clammy Venom, and infectious Froth,Distilling fall; and from his Lungs inflam'd,Malignant Vapours taint the ambient Air,Breathing Perdition: His dim Eyes are glaz'd, 215He droops his pensive Head, his trembling LimbsNo more support his Weight; abject he lies,Dumb, spiritless, benumb'd; till Death at lastGracious attends, and kindly brings Relief.
Or if outragious grown, behold alass! 220A yet more dreadful Scene; his glaring Eyes Redden with Fury, like some angry BoarChurning he foams; and on his Back erectHis pointed Bristles rise; his Tale incurv'dHe drops, and with harsh broken Howlings rends 225The poison-tainted Air, with rough hoarse VoiceIncessant Bays; and snuffs th' infectious Breeze;This Way and that he stares aghast, and startsAt his own Shade; jealous, as if he deem'dThe World his Foes. If haply tow'rd the Stream 230He cast his roving Eye, cold Horror chillsHis Soul; averse he flies, trembling, appall'd.Now frantick to the Kennel's utmost VergeRaving he runs, and deals Destruction round.The Pack fly diverse; for whate'er he meets 235Vengeful he bites, and ev'ry Bite is Death.
If now perchance thro' the weak Fence escap'd,Far up the Wind he roves, with open Mouth Inhales the cooling Breeze, nor Man, nor BeastHe spares implacable. The Hunter-Horse, 240Once kind Associate of his sylvan Toils,(Who haply now without the Kennel's MoundCrops the rank Mead, and list'ning hears with JoyThe chearing Cry, that Morn and Eve salutesHis raptur'd Sense) a wretched Victim falls. 245Unhappy Quadrupede! no more, alass!Shall thy fond Master with his Voice applaudThy Gentleness, thy Speed; or with his HandStroke thy soft dappled Sides, as he each DayVisits thy Stall, well pleas'd; no more shalt thouWith sprightly Neighings, to the winding Horn,And the loud-op'ning Pack in consort join'd,Glad his proud Heart. For oh! the secret WoundRankling inflames, he bites the Ground and dies.
Hence to the Village with pernicious Haste 255Baleful he bends his Course: The Village fliesAlarm'd; the tender Mother in her Arms,Hugs close the trembling Babe; the Doors are barr'd,And flying Curs by native Instinct taught,Shun the contagious Bane; the rustick Bands 260Hurry to Arms, the rude Militia seizeWhate'er at hand they find; Clubs, Forks, or GunsFrom ev'ry Quarter charge the furious Foe,In wild Disorder, and uncouth Array:'Till now with Wounds on Wounds oppress'd and gor'd, 265At one short pois'nous Gasp he breaths his last.
Hence to the Kennel, Muse, return, and view,With heavy Heart that Hospital of Woe;Where Horror stalks at large, insatiate Death Sits growling o'er his Prey: Each Hour presents 270A diff'rent Scene of Ruin and Distress.How busy art thou Fate! and how severeThy pointed Wrath! the Dying and the DeadPromiscuous lye; o'er these the Living fightIn one eternal Broil; not conscious why, 275Nor yet with whom. So Drunkards in their Cups,Spare not their Friends, while senseless Squabble reigns.
Huntsman! it much behooves thee to avoidThe perilous Debate. Ah! rouze up allThy Vigilance, and tread the treach'rous Ground 280With careful Step. Thy Fires unquench'd preserve,As erst the Vestal Flame; the pointed SteelIn the hot Embers hide; and if surpriz'dThou feel'st the deadly Bite, quick urge it homeInto the recent Sore, and cauterize 285 The Wound; spare not thy Flesh, nor dreadth' Event:Vulcan shall save, when Æsculapius fails.
Here, shou'd the knowing Muse recount the MeansTo stop this growing Plague. And here, alass!Each Hand presents a sov'reign Cure, and boasts 290Infallibility, but boasts in vain.On this depend, each to his sep'rate SeatConfine, in Fetters bound; give each his MessApart, his Range in open Air; and thenIf deadly Symptoms to thy Grief appear; 295Devote the Wretch, and let him greatly fall,A gen'rous Victim for the publick Weal.
Sing, Philosophick Muse, the dire EffectsOf this contagious Bite on hapless Man. The rustick Swains, by long Tradition taught 300Of Leeches old, as soon as they perceiveThe Bite impress'd, to the Sea-Coasts repair.Plung'd in the briny Flood, th' unhappy YouthNow journeys home secure; but soon shall wish The Seas as yet had cover'd him beneath 305The foaming Surge, full many a Fathom deep.A Fate more dismal, and superior IllsHang o'er his Head devoted. When the MoonClosing her monthly round, returns againTo glad the Night; or when full-orb'd she shines 310High in the Vault of Heav'n; the lurking PestBegins the dire Assault. The pois'nous FoamThro' the deep Wound instill'd with hostile Rage,And all its fiery Particles saline,Invades th' arterial Fluid; whose red Waves 315Tempestuous heave, and their Cohesion broke,Fermenting boil; intestine War ensues, And Order to Confusion turns embroil'd. Now the distended Vessels scarce containThe wild Uproar, but press each weaker Part, 320Unable to resist: The tender Brain,And Stomach suffer most; Convulsions shakeHis trembling Nerves, and wand'ring pungent PainsPinch sore the sleepless Wretch; his flutt'ring PulseOft intermits; pensive, and sad, he mourns 325His cruel Fate, and to his weeping FriendsLaments in vain; to hasty Anger prone,Resents each slight Offence, walks with quick Step,And wildly stares; at last with boundless SwayThe Tyrant Frenzy reigns. For as the Dog, 330(Whose fatal Bite convey'd th' infectious Bane)Raving he foams, and howls, and barks, and bates.Like Agitations in his boiling BloodPresent like Species to his troubled Mind; His Nature, and his Actions all canine. 335So as (old Homer sung) th' Associates wildOf wand'ring Ithacus, by Circe's CharmsTo Swine transform'd, ran gruntling thro' the GrovesDreadful Example to a wicked World!See there distress'd he lies! parch'd up with Thirst,But dares not drink. 'Till now at last his SoulTrembling escapes, her noisome Dungeon leaves,And to some purer Region wings away.
One Labour yet remains, celestial Maid!Another Element demands thy Song. 345No more o'er craggy Steeps, thro' Coverts thickWith pointed Thorn, and Briers intricate,Urge on with Horn and Voice the painful Pack:But skim with wanton Wing th' irriguous Vale,Where winding Streams amid the flow'ry Meads 350Perpetual glide along; and undermine The cavern'd Banks, by the tenacious RootsOf hoary Willows arch'd; gloomy RetreatOf the bright scaly Kind; where they at Will,On the green wat'ry Reed their Pasture graze, 355Suck the moist Soil, or slumber at their Ease,Rock'd by the restless Brook, that draws aslopeIts humid Train, and laves their dark Abodes.Where rages not Oppression? Where, alass!Is Innocence secure? Rapine and Spoil 360Haunt ev'n the lowest Deeps; Seas have their Sharks,Rivers and Ponds inclos'd, the rav'nous Pike;He in his Turn becomes a Prey; on himTh' amphibious Otter feasts. Just is his FateDeserv'd: But Tyrants know no Bounds; nor SpearsThat bristle on his Back, defend the PerchFrom his wide greedy Jaws; nor burnish'd MailThe yellow Carp; nor all his Arts can saveTh' insinuating Eel, that hides his Head Beneath the slimy Mud; nor yet escapes 370The crimson-spotted Trout, the River's Pride,And Beauty of the Stream. Without Remorse,This midnight Pillager ranging around,Insatiate swallows all. The Owner mournsTh' unpeopled Rivulet, and gladly hears 375The Huntsman's early Call, and sees with JoyThe jovial Crew, that march upon its BanksIn gay Parade, with bearded Lances arm'd.
This subtle Spoiler of the Beaver kind,Far off perhaps, where ancient Alders shade 380The deep still Pool; within some hollow Trunk Contrives his wicker Couch: Whence he surveysHis long Purlieu, Lord of the Stream, and allThe finny Shoals his own. But you, brave Youths,Dispute the Felon's Claim; try ev'ry Root, 385And ev'ry reedy Bank; encourage all The busy-spreading Pack, that fearless plungeInto the Flood, and cross the rapid Stream.Bid Rocks, and Caves, and each resounding Shore,Proclaim your bold Defiance; loudly raise 390Each chearing Voice, 'till distant Hills repeatThe Triumphs of the Vale. On the soft SandSee there his Seal impress'd! and on that BankBehold the glitt'ring Spoils, half-eaten Fish,Scales, Fins, and Bones, the Leavings of his Feast.Ah! on that yielding Sag-bed, see, once moreHis Seal I view. O'er yon dank rushy MarshThe sly Goose-footed Proler bends his Course,And seeks the distant Shallows. Huntíman, bringThy eager Pack; and trail him to his Couch. 400Hark! the loud Peal begins, the clam'rous Joy,The gallant Chiding, loads the trembling Air.
Ye Naiads fair, who o'er these Floods preside,Raise up your dripping Heads above the Wave,And hear our Melody. Th' harmonious Notes 10Float with the Stream; and ev'ry winding CreekAnd hollow Rock, that o'er the dimpling FloodNods pendant; still improve from Shore to ShoreOur sweet reiterated Joys. What Shouts!What Clamour loud! What gay heart-chearing Sounds 410Urge thro' the breathing Brass their mazy Way!Not Quires of Tritons glad with sprightlier StrainsThe dancing Billows; when proud Neptune ridesIn Triumph o'er the Deep. How greedilyThey snuff the fishy Steam, that to each Blade 415Rank-scenting clings! See! how the Morning DewsThey sweep, that from their Feet besprinkling dropDispers'd, and leave a Track oblique behind. Now on firm Land they range; then in the FloodThey plunge tumultuous; or thro' reedy Pools 420Rustling they work their Way: no Holt escapesTheir curious Search. With quick Sensation nowThe fuming Vapour stings; flutter their Hearts,And Joy redoubled bursts from ev'ry Mouth,In louder Symphonies. Yon hollow Trunk, 425That with its hoary Head incurv'd, salutesThe passing Wave; must be the Tyrant's Fort,And dread abode. How these impatient climb,While others at the Root incessant Bay:They put him down. See, there he dives along! 430Th' ascending Bubbles mark his gloomy Way.Quick fix the Nets, and cut off his RetreatInto the shelt'ring Deeps. Ah, there he vents!The Pack plunge headlong, and protended SpearsMenace Destruction. While the troubled Surge 435Indignant foams, and all the scaly Kind Affrighted, hide their Heads. Wild Tumult reigns,And loud Uproar. Ah, there once more he vents!See, that bold Hound has seiz'd him; down they sink,Together lost: But soon shall he repent 440His rash Assault. See, there escap'd, he fliesHalf drown'd, and clambers up the slipp'ry BankWith Ouze and Blood distain'd. Of all the Brutes,Whether by Nature form'd, or by long Use,This artful Diver best can bear the WantOf vital Air. Unequal is the Fight,Beneath the whelming Element. Yet thereHe lives not long; but Respiration needsAt proper Intervals. Again he vents;Again the Crowd attack. That Spear has pierc'd 450His Neck; the crimson Waves confess the Wound.Fix'd is the bearded Lance, unwelcome Guest,Where-e'er he flies; with him it sinks beneath, With him it mounts; sure Guide to ev'ry Foe.Inly he groans, nor can his tender Wound 455Bear the cold Stream. Lo! to yon sedgy BankHe creeps disconsolate; his num'rous FoesSurround him, Hounds, and Men. Pierc'd thro' and thro',On pointed Spears they lift him high in Air;Wriggling he hangs, and grins, and bites in vain:Bid the loud Horns, in gayly-warbling Strains,Proclaim the Felon's Fate; he dies, he dies.
Rejoice, ye scaly Tribes, and leaping danceAbove the Wave, in Sign of LibertyRestor'd; the cruel Tyrant is no more. 465Rejoice secure and bless'd; did not as yetRemain, some of your own rapacious Kind;And Man, fierce Man, with all his various Wiles.
O Happy! if ye knew your happy State,Ye Rangers of the Fields; whom Nature boon 470Chears with her Smiles, and ev'ry ElementConspires to bless. What, if no Heroes frownFrom marble Pedestals; nor Raphael's Works,Nor Titian's lively Tints, adorn our Walls?Yet these the meanest of us may behold; 475And at another's Cost, may feast at WillOur wond'ring Eyes; what can the Owner more?But vain, alass! is Wealth, not grac'd with Pow'r.The flow'ry Landskip, and the gilded Dome,And Vistas op'ning to the wearied Eye, 480Thro' all his wide Domain; the planted Grove,The shrubby Wilderness, with its gay ChoirOf warbling Birds, can't lull to soft ReposeTh'ambitious Wretch, whose discontented SoulIs harrow'd Day and Night; he mourns, he pines, Until his Prince's Favour makes him great.See there he comes, th' exalted Idol comes!The Circle's form'd, and all his fawning SlavesDevoutly bow to Earth; from ev'ry MouthThe nauseous Flatt'ry flows, which he returns 490With Promises, that die as soon as born.Vile Intercourse! where Virtue has no Place.Frown but the Monarch; all his Glories fade;He mingles with the Throng, outcast, undone,The Pageant of a Day; without one Friend 495To sooth his tortur'd Mind; all, all are fled.For tho' they bask'd in his meridian Ray,The Insects vanish, as his Beams decline.
Not such our Friends; for here no dark Design,No wicked Int'rest bribes the venal Heart; 500But Inclination to our Bosom leads, And weds them there for Life; our social CupsSmile, as we smile; open, and unreserv'd.We speak our inmost Souls; good Humour, Mirth,Soft Complaisance, and Wit from Malice free, 505Smooth ev'ry Brow, and glow on ev'ry Cheek.
O Happiness sincere! what Wretch wou'd groanBeneath the galling Load of Pow'r, or walkUpon the slipp'ry Pavements of the Great,Who thus cou'd reign, unenvy'd and secure? 510
Ye guardian Pow'rs who make Mankind your Care,Give me to know wise Nature's hidden Depths,Trace each mysterious Cause, with Judgment readTh' expanded Volume, and submiss adoreThat great creative Will, who at a Word 515Spoke forth the wond'rous Scene. But if my Soul To this gross Clay confin'd, flutters on EarthWith less ambitious Wing; unskill'd to rangeFrom Orb to Orb, where Newton leads the Way;And view with piercing Eyes, the grand Machine,Worlds above Worlds; subservient to his Voice,Who veil'd in clouded Majesty, aloneGives Light to all; bids the great System move,And changefull Seasons in their Turns advance,Unmov'd, unchang'd, himself. Yet this at least 525Grant me propitious, an inglorious Life,Calm and serene, nor lost in false PursuitsOf Wealth or Honours; but enough to raiseMy drooping Friends, preventing modest Want,That dares not ask. And if to crown my Joys, 530Ye grant me Health, that, ruddy in my Cheeks,Blooms in my Life's Decline; Fields, Woods, and Streams, Each tow'ring Hill, each humble Vale below,Shall hear my chearing Voice, my Hounds shall wakeThe lazy Morn, and glad th' Horizon round. 535
FINIS.