His winding way, and with thy voice applaud His patience and his care; soon shalt thou view The hopeful pupil leader of his tribe, And all the listening pack attend his call. Oft lead them forth where wanton lambkins play, And bleating dams, with jealous eyes, observe Their tender care. If at the crowding flock He bay presumptuous, or with eager haste Pursue them, scatter’d o’er the verdant plain, In the foul fact attach’d, to the strong ram Tie fast the rash offender. See! at first, His horn’d companion, fearful and amazed, Shall drag him, trembling, o’er the rugged ground, Then with his load fatigued, shall turn a-head, And, with his curl’d hard front, incessant peal The panting wretch; till, breathless and astunn’d, Stretch’d on the turf he lie. Then spare not thou The twining whip, but ply his bleeding sides, Lash after lash; and with thy threatening voice, Harsh echoing from the hills, inculcate loud His vile offence. Sooner shall trembling doves, Escaped the hawk’s sharp talons, in mid air, Assail their dangerous foe, than he once more Disturb the peaceful flocks. In tender age, Thus youth is train’d; as curious artists bend [Sidenote: BOOK IV THE CHASE v. 161-184.] The taper pliant twig, or potters form Their soft and ductile clay to various shapes. Nor is’t enough to breed, but to preserve Must be the huntsman’s care. The stanch old hounds, Guides of thy pack, though but in number few, Are yet of great account; shall oft untie The Gordian knot, when reason at a stand, Puzzling, is lost, and all thy art is vain. O’er clogging fallows, o’er dry plaster’d roads, O’er floated meads, o’er plains with flocks distain’d, Rank scenting, these must lead the dubious way. As party chiefs, in senates who preside, With pleaded reason, and with well-turn’d speech, Conduct the staring multitude; so these Direct the pack, who with joint cry approve, And loudly boast discoveries not their own. Unnumber’d accidents, and various ills, Attend thy pack, hang hovering o’er their heads, And point the way that leads to death’s dark cave. Short is their span; few at the date arrive Of ancient Argus, in old Homer’s song So highly honour’d: kind, sagacious brute! Not even Minerva’s wisdom could conceal Thy much-loved master, from thy nicer sense. [Sidenote: BOOK IV THE CHASE v. 185-209.]