The deluge deepens; till the fields around
Lie
funk, and flatted, in the fordid wave.
Sudden, the ditches fwell; the meadows fwim.
Red, from the hills, innumerable ftreams
Tumultuous roar; and high above its banks
The river lift; before whofe rushing tide,
Herds, flocks, and harvests, cottages, and fwains, 340
Roll mingled down; all that the winds had spar'd
In one wild moment ruin'd; the big hopes,
And well-earn'd treasures of the painful year.
Fled to fome eminence, the husbandman
Helpless beholds the miferable wreck
Driving along; his drowning ox at once
Defcending, with his labours scatter'd round,
He fees; and instant o'er his shivering thought
Comes Winter unprovided, and a train
Of clamant children dear. Ye mafters, then,
Be mindful of the rough laborious hand,
That finks you foft in elegance and ease;
Be mindful of thofe limbs in ruffet clad
Whofe toil to yours is warmth, and graceful pride;
And, oh! be mindful of that fparing board,
Which covers yours with luxury profuse,
Makes your glass sparkle, and your sense rejoice!
Nor cruelly demand what the deep rains
And all-involving winds have fwept away.
Here the rude clamour of the sportsman's joy,
✓
The gun fast-thundering, and the winded horn,
Would tempt the Mufe to fing the rural game :
How, in his mid-career, the spaniel struck,
Stiff, by the tainted gale, with open nose,
Out-stretch'd, and finely fenfible, draws full,
Fearful, and cautious, on the latent prey;
As in the fun the circling covey bask
Their varied plumes, and watchful every way,
Through the rough stubble turn the secret eye.
Caught in the meshy fnare, in vain they beat
Their idle wings, entangled more and more:
Nor on the furges of the boundless air,
Though borne triumphant, are they safe; the gun,
Glanc'd just, and fudden, from the fowler's eye
O'ertakes their founding pinions; and again,
Immediate, brings them from the towering wing,
Dead to the ground; or drives them wide-difpers'd,
Wounded, and wheeling various, down the wind.
These are not fubjects for the peaceful Muse,
Nor will she stain with fuch her spotlefs fong;
Then most delighted, when the focial fees
The whole mix'd animal-creation round
Alive, and happy. 'Tis not joy to her,
This falfely-chearful barbarous game of death;
This rage of pleasure, which the restless youth
Awakes, impatient, with the gleaming morn;
When beafts of prey retire, that all night long,
Urg'd by neceffity, had rang'd the dark,
As if their conscious ravage shun'd the light,
Afham'd. Not fo the fteady tyrant man,
Who with the thoughtless infolence of power
Inflam'd, beyond the most infuriate wrath
Of the worst monfter that e'er roam'd the waste,
For fport alone purfues the cruel chace,
Amid the beamings of the gentle days.
Upbraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage,
For hunger kindles you, and lawless want;
But lavish fed, in Nature's bounty roll'd,
To joy at anguish, and delight in blood,
Is what your horrid bofoms never knew.
Poor is the triumph o'er the timid hare!
Scar'd from the corn, and now to fome lone feat
Retir'd: the rushy fen; the ragged furze,
Stretch'd o'er the ftony heath; the stubble chapt;
The thiftly lawn; the thick entangled broom;
Of the fame friendly hue, the wither'd fern;
The fallow ground laid open to the fun,
Concoctive; and the nodding fandy bank,
Hung o'er the mazes of the mountain brook.
Vain is her best precaution; though she fits
Conceal'd, with folded ears; unfleeping eyes,
By Nature rais'd to take th' horizon in ;
And head couch'd close betwixt her hairy feet,
In act to fpring away.
The fcented dew
Betrays her early labyrinth; and deep,
In fcatter'd fullen openings, far behind,
With
every breeze the hears the coming ftorm.
and more frequent, as it loads
The fighing gale, she springs amaz’d, and all
The favage foul of game is up at once:
The pack full-opening, various; the fhrill horn
Refounded from the hills; the neighing fteed,
Wild for the chace; and the loud hunter's shout;
O'er a weak, harmlefs, flying creature, all
Mix'd in mad tumult, and difcordant joy.
The ftag too, fingled from the herd, where long
He rang'd the branching monarch of the fhades,
Before the tempeft drives. At first, in speed
He, sprightly, puts his faith; and, rous'd by fear,
Gives all his fwift aërial foul to flight; X
Against the breeze he darts, that way the more
To leave the leffening murderous cry behind :
Deception fhort! though fleeter than the winds
Blown o'er the keen-air'd mountains by the north,
He bursts the thickets, glances through the glades, 435
And plunges deep into the wildest wood;
If flow, yet fure, adhefive to the track
Hot-fteaming, up behind him come again
Th' inhuman rout, and from the fhady depth.
Expel him, circling through his every shift.
He sweeps the forest oft; and sobbing fees
The glades, mild opening to the golden day;
Where, in kind conteft, with his butting friends
He wont to struggle, or his loves enjoy.
Oft in the full-defcending flood he tries
To lose the scent, and lave his burning fides :
Oft seeks the herd; the watchful herd, alarm'd,
With felfifh care avoid a brother's woe.
What shall he do? His once fo vivid nerves,
So full of buoyant fpirit, now no more
Inspire the course; but fainting breathlefs toil,
Sick, feizes on his heart: he ftands at bay;
And puts his laft weak refuge in defpair.
The big round tears run down his dappled face;
He groans in anguish; while the growling pack, 455
Blood-happy, hang at his fair jutting cheft,
And mark his beauteous checker'd fides with gore.
Of this enough. But if the fylvan youth,
Whofe fervent blood boils into violence,
Must have the chace; behold, defpifing flight,
The rous'd-up lion, refolute, and flow,
Advancing full on the protended spear,
And coward-band, that circling wheel aloof.
Slunk from the cavern, and the troubled wood,
See the grim wolf; on him his fhaggy foe
Vindictive fix, and let the ruffian die:
Or, growling horrid, as the brindled boar
Grins fell deftruction, to the monster's heart
Let the dart lighten from the nervous arm.
These Britain knows not; give, ye Britons, then Your fportive 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 the chace purfue.
Throw the broad ditch behind you; o'er the hedge 475
High-bound, refiftlefs; nor the deep morafs
Refufe, but through 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
Your triumph found fonorous, running round,
From rock to rock, in circling echos tost;
Then fcale the mountains to their woody tops ;
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