Invites thee to the chase, the sport of kings; Image of war, without its guilt. The Muse Aloft on wing shall soar, conduct with care Thy foaming courser o’er the steepy rock, Or, on the river bank, receive thee safe, Light-bounding o’er the wave, from shore to shore. Be thou our great protector, gracious youth! And if, in future times, some envious prince, Careless of right, and guileful, should invade Thy Britain’s commerce, or should strive, in vain, To wrest the balance from thy equal hand, Thy hunter-train, in cheerful green array’d, A band undaunted, and innured to toils, Shall compass thee around, die at thy feet, Or hew thy passage through the embattled foe, And clear thy way to fame: inspired by thee, The nobler chase of glory shall pursue, Through fire, and smoke, and blood, and fields of death. Nature, in her productions slow, aspires, By just degrees, to reach perfection’s highth: So mimick art works leisurely, till time Improve the piece, or wise experience give The proper finishing. When Nimrod bold, That mighty hunter, first made war on beasts, And stain’d the woodland green with purple dye, [Sidenote: BOOK I THE CHASE v. 39-63.] New, and unpolish’d, was the huntsman’s art; No stated rule, his wanton will his guide. With clubs and stones, rude implements of war, He arm’d his savage bands, a multitude Untrain’d: of twining osiers form’d, they pitch Their artless toils, then range the desert hills, And scour the plains below: the trembling herd Start at the unusual sound, and clamorous shout, Unheard before; surprised, alas! to find Man now their foe, whom erst they deem’d their lord; But mild, and gentle, and by whom, as yet, Secure they grazed. Death stretches o’er the plain, Wide-wasting, and grim slaughter, red with blood: Urged on by hunger keen, they wound, they kill; Their rage, licentious, knows no bound: at last, Incumber’d with their spoils, joyful they bear, Upon their shoulders broad, the bleeding prey. Part on their altars smokes a sacrifice To that all-gracious Power, whose bounteous hand Supports his wide creation: what remains, On living coals they broil, inelegant Of taste, nor skill’d, as yet, in nicer arts Of pamper’d luxury. Devotion pure, And strong necessity, thus first began The chase of beasts; though bloody was the deed, [Sidenote: BOOK I THE CHASE v. 64-88.]