There dwelt a pilfering race; well-trained and skilled In all the mysteries of theft, the spoil Their only substance, feuds and war their sport: Not more expert in every fraudful art _300 The arch felon was of old, who by the tail Drew back his lowing prize: in vain his wiles, In vain the shelter of the covering rock, In vain the sooty cloud, and ruddy flames That issued from his mouth; for soon he paid His forfeit life: a debt how justly due To wronged Alcides, and avenging Heaven! Veiled in the shades of night they ford the stream, Then prowling far and near, whate'er they seize Becomes their prey; nor flocks nor herds are safe, _310 Nor stalls protect the steer, nor strong barred doors Secure the favourite horse. Soon as the morn Reveals his wrongs, with ghastly visage wan The plundered owner stands, and from his lips A thousand thronging curses burst their way: He calls his stout allies, and in a line His faithful hound he leads, then with a voice That utters loud his rage, attentive cheers: Soon the sagacious brute, his curling tail Flourished in air, low-bending plies around _320 His busy nose, the steaming vapour snuff Inquisitive, nor leaves one turf untried, Till conscious of the recent stains, his heart Beats quick; his snuffling nose, his active tail Attest his joy; then with deep opening mouth That makes the welkin tremble, he proclaims The audacious felon; foot by foot he marks His winding way, while all the listening crowd Applaud his reasonings. O'er the watery ford, Dry sandy heaths, and stony barren hill, _330 O'er beaten paths, with men and beasts distained, Unerring he pursues; till at the cot Arrived, and seizing by his guilty throat The caitiff' vile, redeems the captive prey: So exquisitely delicate his sense! Should some more curious sportsman here inquire, Whence this sagacity, this wondrous power Of tracing step by step, or man or brute?