Whate’er of earth is form’d, 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. As hurtful, these he kills; as useful, those Preserves; their sole and arbitrary king. Should he not kill, as erst the Samian sage [Sidenote: BOOK IV THE CHASE v. 14-37.] Taught, unadvised, and Indian Brachmans now As vainly preach, the teeming ravenous brutes Might fill the scanty space of this terrene, Incumbering 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, Quite destitute of every solace dear, And every smiling gayety 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. 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 feather’d 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, [Sidenote: BOOK IV THE CHASE v. 38-62.]