Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/173

Slunk from the cavern, and the troubled wood,
See the grim wolf; on him his fhaggy foe 465
Vindictive fix, and let the ruffian die:
Or, growling horrid, as the brindled boar
Grins fell destruction, to the monster's heart
Let the dart lighten from the nervous arm.

These Britain knows not; give, ye Britons, then 470
Your sportive fury, pityless, to pour
Loose on the nightly robber of the fold:
Him, from his craggy winding haunts unearth'd,
Let all the thunder of of the chace pursue.
Throw the broad ditch behind you; o'er the hedge 475
High-bound, resistless; nor the deep morass
Refuse, but thro' the shaking wilderness
Pick your nice way; into the perilous flood
Bear fearless, of the raging instinct full;
And as you ride the torrent, to the banks 480
Your triumph sound sonorous, running round,
From rock to rock, in circling echos tost;
Then scale the mountains to their woody tops;
Rush down the dangerous steep; and o'er the lawn,
In fancy swallowing up the space between, 485
Pour all your speed into the rapid game.
For happy he! who tops the wheeling chace;
Has every maze evolv'd, and every guile
Disclos'd; who knows the merits of the pack,
Who saw the villain seiz'd, and dying hard, 490
Without complaint, tho' by an hundred mouths
Relentless torn: o glorious he, beyond
His daring peers! when the retreating horn
Calls them to ghostly halls of grey renown,
With woodland honours grac'd; the fox's fur, 495
Depending decent from the roof; and spread
Round the drear walls, with antick figures fierce,

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