O happy regions, Italy and Spain, Which never did those monsters entertain! The Wolf, the Bear, the Boar, can there advance No native claim of just inheritance. And self-preserving laws, severe in show, May guard their fences from the invading foe. Where birth has placed them, let them safely share The common benefit of vital air. Themselves unharmful, let them live unharm'd; Their jaws disabled, and their claws disarm'd: 300 Here, only in nocturnal howlings bold, They dare not seize the hind, nor leap the fold. More powerful, and as vigilant as they, The Lion awfully forbids the prey. Their rage repress'd, though pinch'd with famine sore, They stand aloof, and tremble at his roar: Much is their hunger, but their fear is more. These are the chief: to number o'er the rest, And stand, like Adam, naming every beast, Were weary work; nor will the muse describe 310 A slimy-born and sun-begotten tribe; Who far from steeples and their sacred sound, In fields their sullen conventicles found. These gross, half-animated lumps I leave; Nor can I think what thoughts they can conceive. But if they think at all, 'tis sure no higher Than matter, put in motion, may aspire: Souls that can scarce ferment their mass of clay; So drossy, so divisible are they, As would but serve pure bodies for allay: 320 Such souls as shards produce, such beetle things As only buzz to heaven with evening wings; Strike in the dark, offending but by chance, Such are the blindfold blows of ignorance. They know not beings, and but hate a name; To them the Hind and Panther are the same.