BOOK IV.

THE ARGUMENT.

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.--Number to be reared.--Of setting them out to their several walks.--Care to be taken to prevent their hunting too soon.--Of entering 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 outrageous madness: its 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.

Whate'er of earth is formed, to earth returns Dissolved: the various objects we behold, Plants, animals, this whole material mass, Are ever changing, ever new. The soul Of man alone, that particle divine, Escapes 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 those Preserves; their sole and arbitrary king. Should he not kill, as erst the Samian sage Taught unadvised, and Indian Brahmins now As vainly preach; the teeming ravenous brutes Might fill the scanty space of this terrene, Encumbering all the globe: should not his care Improve his growing stock, their kinds might fail, Man might once more on roots, and acorns, feed, And through the deserts range, shivering, forlorn, _20 Quite destitute of every solace dear, And every smiling gaiety of life. The prudent huntsman, therefore, will supply, With annual large recruits, his broken pack, And propagate their kind. As from the root Fresh scions still spring forth, and daily yield New blooming honours to the parent-tree; Far shall his pack be famed, far sought his breed, And princes at their tables feast those hounds His hand presents, an acceptable boon. _30 Ere yet the Sun through the bright Ram has urged His steepy course, or mother Earth unbound Her frozen bosom to the western gale; When feathered troops, their social leagues dissolved, Select their mates, and on the leafless elm The noisy rook builds high her wicker nest; Mark well the wanton females of thy pack, That curl their taper tails, and frisking court Their pyebald mates enamoured; their red eyes Flash fires impure; nor rest, nor food they take, _40 Goaded by furious love. In separate cells Confine them now, lest bloody civil wars Annoy thy peaceful state. If left at large, The growling rivals in dread battle join, And rude encounter. On Scamander's streams Heroes of old with far less fury fought, For the bright Spartan dame, their valour's prize. Mangled and torn thy favourite hounds shall lie, Stretched on the ground; thy kennel shall appear A field of blood: like some unhappy town _50 In civil broils confused, while Discord shakes Her bloody scourge aloft, fierce parties rage, Staining their impious hands in mutual death. And still the best beloved, and bravest fall: Such are the dire effects of lawless love. Huntsman! these ills by timely prudent care Prevent: for every longing dame select Some happy paramour; to him alone In leagues connubial join. Consider well His 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 brake With thorns sharp-pointed, plashed, and briers inwoven. Observe with care his shape, sort, colour, size. Nor will sagacious huntsmen less regard His inward habits: the vain babbler shun, Ever loquacious, ever in the wrong. His foolish offspring shall offend thy ears With false alarms, and loud impertinence. Nor less the shifting cur avoid, that breaks _70 Illusive from the pack; to the next hedge Devious he strays, there every mews he tries: If haply then he cross the steaming scent, Away he flies vain-glorious; and exults As of the pack supreme, and in his speed And strength unrivalled. Lo! cast far behind His vexed associates pant, and labouring strain To climb the steep ascent. Soon as they reach The insulting boaster, his false courage fails, Behind he lags, doomed to the fatal noose, _80 His master's hate, and scorn of all the field. What can from such be hoped, but a base brood Of coward curs, a frantic, vagrant race? When now the third revolving moon appears, With sharpened horns, above the horizon's brink; Without Lucina's aid, expect thy hopes Are amply crowned; short pangs produce to light The smoking litter; crawling, helpless, blind, Nature their guide, they seek the pouting teat That plenteous streams. Soon as the tender dam _90 Has formed them with her tongue, with pleasure view The marks of their renowned progenitors, Sure pledge of triumphs yet to come. All these Select with joy; but to the merciless flood Expose the dwindling refuse, nor o'erload The indulgent mother. If thy heart relent, Unwilling to destroy, a nurse provide, And to the foster-parent give the care Of thy superfluous brood; she'll cherish kind The alien offspring; pleased thou shalt behold _100 Her tenderness, and hospitable love. If frolic now, and playful they desert Their gloomy cell, and on the verdant turf With nerves improved, pursue the mimic chase, Coursing around; unto thy choicest friends Commit thy valued prize: the rustic dames Shall at thy kennel wait, and in their laps Receive thy growing hopes, with many a kiss Caress, and dignify their little charge With some great title, and resounding name _110 Of high import. But cautious here observe To check their youthful ardour, nor permit The unexperienced younker, immature, Alone to range the woods, or haunt the brakes Where dodging conies sport: his nerves unstrung, And strength unequal; the laborious chase Shall stint his growth, and his rash forward youth Contract such vicious habits, as thy care And late correction never shall reclaim. When to full strength arrived, mature and bold, _120 Conduct them to the field; not all at once But as thy cooler prudence shall direct, Select a few, and form them by degrees To stricter discipline. With these consort The stanch and steady sages of thy pack, By long experience versed in all the wiles, And subtle doublings of the various chase. Easy the lesson of the youthful train, When instinct prompts, and when example guides. If the too forward younker at the head _130 Press boldly on, in wanton sportive mood, Correct his haste, and let him feel abashed The ruling whip. But if he stoop behind In wary modest guise, to his own nose Confiding sure; give him full scope to work His winding way, and with thy voice applaud His patience, and his care; soon shalt thou view The hopeful pupil leader of his tribe, And all the listening pack attend his call. Oft lead them forth where wanton lambkins play, _140 And bleating dams with jealous eyes observe Their tender care. If at the crowding flock He bay presumptuous, or with eager haste Pursue them scattered o'er the verdant plain; In the foul fact attached, to the strong ram Tie fast the rash offender. See! at first His horned companion, fearful, and amazed, Shall drag him trembling o'er the rugged ground; Then with his load fatigued, shall turn a-head, And with his curled hard front incessant peal _150 The panting wretch; till breathless and astunned, Stretched on the turf he lie. Then spare not thou The twining whip, but ply his bleeding sides Lash after lash, and with thy threatening voice, Harsh-echoing from the hills, inculcate loud His vile offence. Sooner shall trembling doves Escaped the hawk's sharp talons, in mid air, Assail their dangerous foe, than he once more Disturb the peaceful flocks. In tender age Thus youth is trained; as curious artists bend _160 The taper, pliant twig; or potters form Their soft and ductile clay to various shapes. Nor is't enough to breed; but to preserve Must be the huntsman's care. The stanch old hounds Guides of thy pack, though but in number few, Are yet of great account; shall oft untie The Gordian knot, when reason at a stand Puzzling is lost, and all thy art is vain. O'er clogging fallows, o'er dry plastered roads, O'er floated meads, o'er plains with flocks distained _170 Rank-scenting, these must lead the dubious way. As party-chiefs in senates who preside, With pleaded reason and with well turned speech Conduct the staring multitude; so these Direct the pack, who with joint cry approve, And loudly boast discoveries not their own. Unnumbered accidents, and various ills, Attend thy pack, hang hovering o'er their heads, And point the way that leads to Death's dark cave. Short is their span; few at the date arrive Of ancient Argus in old Homer's song _180 So highly honoured: kind, sagacious brute! Not even Minerva's wisdom could conceal Thy much-loved master from thy nicer sense. Dying, his lord he owned, viewed him all o'er With eager eyes, then closed those eyes, well pleased. Of lesser ills the Muse declines to sing, Nor stoops so low; of these each groom can tell The proper remedy. But oh! what care! What prudence can prevent madness, the worst Of maladies? Terrific pest! that blasts _190 The huntsman's hopes, and desolation spreads Through all the unpeopled kennel unrestrained. More fatal than the envenomed viper's bite; Or that Apulian[10] spider's poisonous sting, Healed by the pleasing antidote of sounds. When Sirius reigns, and the sun's parching beams Bake the dry gaping surface, visit thou Each even and morn, with quick observant eye, Thy panting pack. If in dark sullen mood, The gloating hound refuse his wonted meal, _200 Retiring to some close, obscure retreat, Gloomy, disconsolate: with speed remove The poor infectious wretch, and in strong chains Bind him suspected. Thus that dire disease Which 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 brute Sits sadly pining: deep melancholy, And black despair, upon his clouded brow _210 Hang lowering; from his half-opening jaws The clammy venom, and infectious froth, Distilling fall; and from his lungs inflamed, Malignant vapours taint the ambient air, Breathing perdition: his dim eyes are glazed, He droops his pensive head, his trembling limbs No more support his weight; abject he lies, Dumb, spiritless, benumbed; till death at last Gracious attends, and kindly brings relief. Or if outrageous grown, behold alas! _220 A yet more dreadful scene; his glaring eye Redden with fury, like some angry boar Churning he foams; and on his back erect His pointed bristles rise; his tail incurved He drops, and with harsh broken bowlings rends The poison-tainted air, with rough hoarse voice Incessant bays; and snuff's the infectious breeze; This way and that he stares aghast, and starts At his own shade; jealous, as if he deemed The world his foes. If haply toward the stream _230 He cast his roving eye, cold horror chills His soul; averse he flies, trembling, appalled. Now frantic to the kennel's utmost verge Raving he runs, and deals destruction round. The pack fly diverse; for whate'er he meets Vengeful he bites, and every bite is death. If now perchance through the weak fence escaped, Far up the wind he roves, with open mouth Inhales the cooling breeze, nor man, nor beast He spares, implacable. The hunter-horse, _240 Once kind associate of his sylvan toils, (Who haply now without the kennel's mound Crops the rank mead, and listening hears with joy The cheering cry, that morn and eve salutes His raptured sense) a wretched victim falls. Unhappy quadruped! no more, alas! Shall thy fond master with his voice applaud Thy gentleness, thy speed; or with his hand Stroke thy soft dappled sides, as he each day Visits thy stall, well pleased; no more shalt thou _250 With sprightly neighings, to the winding horn And the loud opening pack in concert joined, Glad his proud heart. For oh! the secret wound Rankling inflames, he bites the ground and dies. Hence to the village with pernicious haste Baleful he bends his course: the village flies Alarmed; the tender mother in her arms Hugs close the trembling babe; the doors are barred, And flying curs, by native instinct taught, Shun the contagious bane; the rustic bands _260 Hurry to arms, the rude militia seize Whate'er at hand they find; clubs, forks, or guns From every quarter charge the furious foe, In wild disorder, and uncouth array: Till now with wounds on wounds oppressed and gored, At one short poisonous gasp he breathes 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 _270 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 yet with whom. So drunkards in their cups, Spare not their friends, while senseless squabble reigns. Huntsman! it much behoves thee to avoid The perilous debate! Ah! rouse up all Thy vigilance, and tread the treacherous ground _280 With careful step. Thy fires unquenched preserve, As erst the vestal flame; the pointed steel In the hot embers hide; and if surprised Thou feel'st the deadly bite, quick urge it home Into the recent sore, and cauterise The wound; spare not thy flesh, nor dread the event: Vulcan shall save when Aesculapius fails. Here, should the knowing Muse recount the means To stop this growing plague. And here, alas! Each hand presents a sovereign cure, and boasts _290 Infallibility, but boasts in vain. On this depend, each to his separate seat Confine, in fetters bound; give each his mess Apart, his range in open air; and then If deadly symptoms to thy grief appear, Devote the wretch, and let him greatly fall, A generous victim for the public weal. Sing, philosophic Muse, the dire effects Of this contagious bite on hapless man. The rustic swains, by long tradition taught _300 Of leeches old, as soon as they perceive The bite impressed, to the sea-coasts repair. Plunged in the briny flood, the unhappy youth Now journeys home secure; but soon shall wish The seas as yet had covered him beneath The foaming surge, full many a fathom deep. A fate more dismal, and superior ills Hang o'er his head devoted. When the moon, Closing her monthly round, returns again To glad the night; or when full orbed she shines _310 High in the vault of heaven; the lurking pest Begins the dire assault. The poisonous foam, Through the deep wound instilled with hostile rage, And all its fiery particles saline, Invades the arterial fluid; whose red waves Tempestuous heave, and their cohesion broke, Fermenting boil; intestine war ensues, And order to confusion turns embroiled. Now the distended vessels scarce contain The wild uproar, but press each weaker part, _320 Unable to resist: the tender brain And stomach suffer most; convulsions shake His trembling nerves, and wandering pungent pains Pinch sore the sleepless wretch; his fluttering pulse Oft intermits; pensive, and sad, he mourns His cruel fate, and to his weeping friends Laments in vain; to hasty anger prone, Resents each slight offence, walks with quick step, And wildly stares; at last with boundless sway The tyrant frenzy reigns. For as the dog _330 (Whose fatal bite conveyed the infectious bane) Raving he foams, and howls, and barks, and bites. Like agitations in his boiling blood Present like species to his troubled mind; His nature, and his actions all canine. So as (old Homer sung) the associates wild Of wandering Ithacus, by Circe's charms To swine transformed, ran grunting through the groves. Dreadful example to a wicked world! See there distressed he lies! parched up with thirst, _340 But dares not drink. Till now at last his soul Trembling escapes, her noisome dungeon leaves, And to some purer region wings away. One labour yet remains, celestial Maid! Another element demands thy song. No more o'er craggy steeps, through coverts thick With pointed thorn, and briers intricate, Urge on with horn and voice the painful pack But skim with wanton wing the irriguous vale, Where winding streams amid the flowery meads _350 Perpetual glide along; and undermine The caverned banks, by the tenacious roots Of hoary willows arched; gloomy retreat Of the bright scaly kind; where they at will, On the green watery reed their pasture graze, Suck the moist soil, or slumber at their ease, Rocked by the restless brook, that draws aslope Its humid train, and laves their dark abodes. Where rages not oppression? Where, alas! Is innocence secure? Rapine and spoil _360 Haunt even the lowest deeps; seas have their sharks, Rivers and ponds inclose the ravenous pike; He in his turn becomes a prey; on him The amphibious otter feasts. Just is his fate Deserved; but tyrants know no bounds; nor spears That bristle on his back, defend the perch From his wide greedy jaws; nor burnished mail The yellow carp; nor all his arts can save The insinuating eel, that hides his head Beneath the slimy mud; nor yet escapes _370 The crimson-spotted trout, the river's pride, And beauty of the stream. Without remorse, This midnight pillager ranging around, Insatiate swallows all. The owner mourns The unpeopled rivulet, and gladly hears The huntsman's early call, and sees with joy The jovial crew, that march upon its banks In gay parade, with bearded lances armed. This subtle spoiler of the beaver kind, Far off, perhaps, where ancient alders shade The deep still pool; within some hollow trunk _380 Contrives his wicker couch: whence he surveys His long purlieu, lord of the stream, and all The finny shoals his own. But you, brave youths, Dispute the felon's claim; try every root, And every reedy bank; encourage all The busy-spreading pack, that fearless plunge Into the flood, and cross the rapid stream. Bid rocks and caves, and each resounding shore, Proclaim your bold defiance; loudly raise _390 Each cheering voice, till distant hills repeat The triumphs of the vale. On the soft sand See there his seal impressed! and on that bank Behold the glittering spoils, half-eaten fish, Scales, fins, and bones, the leavings of his feast. Ah! on that yielding sag-bed, see, once more His seal I view. O'er yon dank rushy marsh The sly goose-footed prowler bends his course, And seeks the distant shallows. Huntsman, bring Thy eager pack; and trail him to his couch. _400 Hark! the loud peal begins, the clamorous 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. The harmonious notes Float with the stream; and every winding creek And hollow rock, that o'er the dimpling flood Nods pendant; still improve from shore to shore Our sweet reiterated joys. What shouts! What clamour loud! What gay heart-cheering sounds _410 Urge through, the breathing brass their mazy way! Nor choirs of Tritons glad with sprightlier strains The dancing billows, when proud Neptune rides In triumph o'er the deep. How greedily They snuff the fishy steam, that to each blade Rank-scenting clings! See! how the morning dews They sweep, that from their feet besprinkling drop Dispersed, and leave a track oblique behind. Now on firm land they range; then in the flood They plunge tumultuous; or through reedy pools _420 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. How these impatient climb, While others at the root incessant bay: They put him down. See, there he dives along! _430 The ascending bubbles mark his gloomy way. Quick fix the nets, and cut off his retreat Into the sheltering deeps. Ah, there he vents! The pack lunge headlong, and protended spears Menace destruction: while the troubled surge Indignant 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 seized him; down they sink, Together lost: but soon shall he repent _440 His rash assault. See there escaped, he flies Half-drowned, and clambers up the slippery bank With ouze and blood distained. Of all the brutes, Whether by Nature formed, or by long use, This artful diver best can bear the want Of vital air. Unequal is the fight, Beneath the whelming element. Yet there He lives not long; but respiration needs At proper intervals. Again he vents; Again the crowd attack. That spear has pierced _450 His neck; the crimson waves confess the wound. Fixed is the bearded lance, unwelcome guest, Where'er he flies; with him it sinks beneath, With him it mounts; sure guide to every foe. Inly he groans; nor can his tender wound Bear the cold stream. Lo! to yon sedgy bank He creeps disconsolate; his numerous foes Surround him, hounds and men. Pierced through and through, On pointed spears they lift him high in air; Wriggling he hangs, and grins, and bites in vain: _460 Bid the loud horns, in gaily warbling strains, Proclaim the felon's fate; he dies, he dies. Rejoice, ye scaly tribes, and leaping dance Above the wave, in sign of liberty Restored; the cruel tyrant is no more. Rejoice, secure and blessed; did not as yet Remain, 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 _470 Cheers with her smiles, and every element Conspires to bless. What, if no heroes frown From marble pedestals; nor Raphael's works, Nor Titian's lively tints, adorn our walls? Yet these the meanest of us may behold; And at another's cost may feast at will Our wondering eyes; what can the owner more? But vain, alas! is wealth, not graced with power. The flowery landscape, and the gilded dome, And vistas opening to the wearied eye, _480 Through all his wide domain; the planted grove, The shrubby wilderness with its gay choir Of warbling birds, can't lull to soft repose The ambitious wretch, whose discontented soul Is harrowed day and night; he mourns, he pines, Until his prince's favour makes him great. See, there he comes, the exalted idol comes! The circle's formed, and all his fawning slaves Devoutly bow to earth; from every mouth The nauseous flattery flows, which he returns _490 With 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 To soothe his tortured mind; all, all are fled. For though they basked in his meridian ray, The insects vanish, as his beams decline. Not such our friends; for here no dark design, No wicked interest bribes the venal heart; _500 But inclination to our bosom leads, And weds them there for life; our social cups Smile, as we smile; open, and unreserved. We speak our inmost souls; good humour, mirth, Soft complaisance, and wit from malice free, Smoothe every brow, and glow on every cheek. O happiness sincere! what wretch would groan Beneath the galling load of power, or walk Upon the slippery pavements of the great, Who thus could reign, unenvied and secure? _510 Ye guardian powers who make mankind your care, Give me to know wise Nature's hidden depths, Trace each mysterious cause, with judgment read The expanded volume, and submiss adore That great creative Will, who at a word Spoke forth the wondrous scene. But if my soul To this gross clay confined, flutters on earth With less ambitious wing; unskilled to range From orb to orb, where Newton leads the way; And view with piercing eyes, the grand machine, _520 Worlds above worlds; subservient to his voice, Who veiled in clouded majesty, alone Gives light to all; bids the great system move, And changeful seasons in their turns advance, Unmoved, unchanged himself; yet this at least Grant me propitious, an inglorious life, Calm and serene, nor lost in false pursuits Of wealth or honours; but enough to raise My drooping friends, preventing modest want That dares not ask. And if to crown my joys, _530 Ye grant me health, that, ruddy in my cheeks, Blooms in my life's decline; fields, woods, and streams, Each towering hill, each humble vale below, Shall hear my cheering voice, my hounds shall wake The lazy morn, and glad the horizon round.

END OF SOMERVILLE'S CHASE.

[Footnote 1: In republishing only the "Chase" of Somerville and "the Fables" of Gay, we have acted on the principle of selecting the best, and the most characteristic, in our age, perhaps the only readable specimen of either poet.]

[Footnote 2: 'Great Prince:' Prince Frederick. Our readers will remember the humorous epitaph on him, in edifying contrast to Somerville's praise:--

'Here lies Fred, Who was alive, and is dead: If it had been his father, I'd much rather; Had it been his mother, Better than another; Were it his sister, Nobody would have miss'd her; Were it the whole generation, The better for the nation. But since it's only Fred, There's no more to be said, But that he was alive, and is dead.'

We quote this from recollection of Thackeray's recitation, but think it pretty accurate.]

[Footnote 3: 'Neustria:' Normandy.]

[Footnote 4: 'Fountain of light,' &c. Scott as well as Somerville loved to write in brilliant sunshine.]

[Footnote 6: 'Talbot kind:' Derived, we think, from the famous John Talbot, the first Earl of Shrewsbury, who employed this species of hound against the Irish rebels.]

[Footnote 7: 'Aurengzebe:' in 1659, seized the throne of India, after murdering his relatives, but became a good, wise, and brave emperor.]

[Footnote 8: 'Ammon's son:' Alexander the Great.]

[Footnote 9: 'Blooming youth:' Fred again.]

[Footnote 10: 'Apulia:' now Puglia, the south-eastern part of Italy.]