The horn sonorous calls, the pack awaked, Their matins chant, nor brook my long delay. My courser hears their voice; see there, with ears And tail erect, neighing, he paws the ground; Fierce rapture kindles in his reddening eyes, And boils in every vein. As captive boys, Cow’d by the ruling rod, and haughty frowns Of pedagogues severe, from their hard tasks If once dismiss’d, no limits can contain The tumult raised within their little breasts, But give a loose to all their frolick play: So from their kennel rush the joyous pack; A thousand wanton gaieties express Their inward ecstasy, their pleasing sport Once more indulged, and liberty restored. The rising sun, that o’er the horizon peeps, As many colours from their glossy skins Beaming reflects, as paint the various bow, When April showers descend. Delightful scene! Where all around is gay, men, horses, dogs; And in each smiling countenance appears Fresh blooming health, and universal joy. Huntsman, lead on! Behind, the clustering pack Submiss attend, hear with respect thy whip Loud-clanging, and thy harsher voice obey: [Sidenote: BOOK II THE CHASE v. 114-138.] Spare not the straggling cur, that wildly roves, But let thy brisk assistant, on his back, Imprint thy just resentments; let each lash Bite to the quick, till, howling, he return, And, whining, creep amid the trembling crowd. Here, on this verdant spot, where nature kind, With double blessings crowns the farmer’s hopes; Where flowers autumnal spring, and the rank mead Affords the wandering hares a rich repast, Throw off thy ready pack. See, where they spread And range around, and dash the glittering dew. If some stanch hound, with his authentick voice, Avow the recent trail, the justling tribe Attend his call; then with one mutual cry The welcome news confirm, and echoing hills Repeat the pleasing tale. See, how they thread The brakes, and up yon furrow drive along: But quick they back recoil, and wisely check Their eager haste; then, o’er the fallow’d ground How leisurely they work, and many a pause The harmonious concert breaks; till more assured, With joys redoubled the low vallies ring. What artful labyrinths perplex their way! Ah, there she lies! how close! she pants, she doubts If now she lives; she trembles as she sits, [Sidenote: BOOK II THE CHASE v. 139-163.]