In Albion’s isle, when glorious Edgar reign’d, He, wisely provident, from her white cliffs Launch’d half her forests, and, with numerous fleets, Cover’d his wide domain: there proudly rode, Lord of the deep, the great prerogative Of British monarchs. Each invader bold, Dane and Norwegian, at a distance gazed, And, disappointed, gnash’d his teeth in vain. He scour’d the seas, and to remotest shores, With swelling sails, the trembling corsair fled. Rich commerce flourish’d; and with busy oars Dash’d the resounding surge. Nor less, at land, His royal cares; wise, potent, gracious prince! [Sidenote: BOOK III THE CHASE v. 14-38.] His subjects from their cruel foes he saved, And, from rapacious savages, their flocks. Cambria’s proud kings, though with reluctance, paid Their tributary wolves; head after head, In full account, till the woods yield no more, And all the ravenous race, extinct, is lost. In fertile pastures, more securely grazed The social troops; and soon their large increase, With curling fleeces, whiten’d all the plains. But yet, alas! the wily fox remain’d, A subtle, pilfering foe, prowling around In midnight shades, and wakeful to destroy. In the full fold, the poor defenceless lamb, Seized by his guileful arts, with sweet warm blood, Supplies a rich repast. The mournful ewe, Her dearest treasure lost, through the dun night Wanders perplex’d, and, darkling, bleats in vain: While, in the adjacent bush, poor Philomel, Herself a parent once, till wanton churls Despoil’d her nest, joins in her loud laments, With sweeter notes, and more melodious woe. For these nocturnal thieves, huntsman, prepare Thy sharpest vengeance. Oh! how glorious ’tis To right the oppress’d, and bring the felon vile To just disgrace! Ere yet the morning peep, [Sidenote: BOOK III THE CHASE v. 39-61.]