The dripping covert; yet when winter’s cold Their limbs benumbs, thither, with speed return’d, In the long grass they skulk, or, shrinking, creep Among the wither’d leaves: thus changing still, As fancy prompts them, or as food invites. But every season carefully observed, The inconstant winds, the fickle element, The wise experienced huntsman soon may find His subtle, various game; nor waste in vain His tedious hours, till his impatient hounds, With disappointment vex’d, each springing lark Babbling pursue, far scatter’d o’er the fields. Now golden autumn from her open lap Her fragrant bounties showers; the fields are shorn; Inwardly smiling, the proud farmer views The rising pyramids that grace his yard, And counts his large increase; his barns are stored, And groaning staddles bend beneath their load. All now is free as air, and the gay pack In the rough bristly stubbles range, unblamed; No widow’s tears o’erflow, no secret curse Swells in the farmer’s breast, which his pale lips Trembling conceal, by his fierce landlord awed: But courteous now, he levels every fence, Joins in the common cry, and halloos loud, [Sidenote: BOOK II THE CHASE v. 64-88.] Charm’d with the rattling thunder of the field. Oh bear me, some kind power invisible, To that extended lawn, where the gay court View the swift racers, stretching to the goal! Games more renown’d, and a far nobler train, Than proud Elean fields could boast of old. Oh! were a Theban lyre not wanting here, And Pindar’s voice, to do their merit right! Or to those spacious plains, where the strain’d eye, In the wide prospect lost, beholds at last Sarum’s proud spire, that o’er the hills ascends, And pierces through the clouds. Or to thy downs, Fair Cotswold, where the well-breathed beagle climbs, With matchless speed, thy green aspiring brow, And leaves the lagging multitude behind. Hail, gentle dawn! mild blushing goddess, hail! Rejoiced, I see thy purple mantle spread O’er half the skies, gems pave thy radiant way, And orient pearls from every shrub depend. Farewell, Cleora; here deep sunk in down, Slumber secure, with happy dreams amused, Till grateful steams shall tempt thee to receive Thy early meal, or thy officious maids, The toilet placed, shall urge thee to perform The important work. Me other joys invite, [Sidenote: BOOK II THE CHASE v. 89-113.]