The Chace ; a Poem

T.Cadell and W.Davies, 1804 - 105 sidor

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Sida xxiv - Reviewing generals his merit own ; How regular ! how just ! and all his cares Are well repaid, if mighty George approve. So model thou thy pack, if honour touch Thy generous soul, and the world's just applause. But above all take heed, nor mix thy hounds Of diff'rent kinds ; discordant sounds shall grate Thy ears offended, and a lagging line Of babbling curs disgrace thy broken pack.
Sida xviii - First let the kennel be the huntsman's care, Upon some little eminence erect, And fronting to the ruddy dawn ; its courts On either hand wide opening to receive The Sun's all-cheering beams, when mild he shines, And gilds the mountain tops.
Sida 3 - The vigorous hounds pursue, with every breath Inhale the grateful steam, quick pleasures sting Their tingling nerves, while they their thanks repay, And in triumphant melody confess The titillating joy. Thus on the air Depend the hunter's hopes.
Sida 34 - The vanquished host. What mortal can deny When suppliant beauty begs? At his command, Opening to right and left, the well-train'd troops Leave a large void for their retreating foes : Away they fly, on wings of fear upborne, To seek on distant hills their late abodes.
Sida 68 - Horror stalks at large; insatiate Death Sits growling o'er his prey: each hour presents A different scene of ruin and distress. How busy art thou, Fate! and how severe Thy pointed wrath! the dying and the dead Promiscuous lie; o'er these the living fight In one eternal broil; not conscious why, Nor...
Sida xvii - Their virtue fails, a weak degenerate race. In vain malignant steams, and winter fogs Load the dull air, and hover round our coasts, The huntsman ever gay, robust, and bold, Defies the noxious vapour, and confides In this delightful exercise, to raise His drooping head and cheer his heart with joy. Ye vigorous youths, by smiling Fortune blest With large demesnes, hereditary wealth, Heaped copious by your wise forefathers
Sida 14 - Rejoiced, I see thy purple mantle spread O'er half the skies, gems pave thy radiant way, And orient pearls from every shrub depend.
Sida 32 - With death, and javelins, launch'd from every arm, Gall sore the brutal bands, with many a wound Gored through and through.
Sida 74 - They plunge tumultuous; or through reedy pools Rustling they work their way: no holt escapes Their curious search. With quick sensation now The fuming vapour stings; flutter their hearts, And joy redoubled bursts from every mouth In louder symphonies. Yon hollow trunk, That with its hoary head incurved, salutes The passing wave, must be the tyrant's fort, And dread abode.

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