Let your obfequious ranger search around,

325

Where yellow ftubble withers on the ground:
Nor will the roving spy direct in vain,

But numerous coveys gratify thy pain.
When the meridian fun contracts the shade,
And frisking heifers feek the cooling glade ;
Or when the country floats with fudden rains,
Or driving inifts deface the moiften'd plains;
In vain his toils th' unfkilful fowler tries,
While in thick woods the feeding partridge lies.
Nor must the sporting verfe the gun forbear,
But what's the Fowler's be the Mufe's care.
See how the well-taught pointer leads the way:
The scent grows warm; he ftops; he springs the
The fluttering coveys from the ftubble rise,
And on fwift wing divide the founding skies;
The scattering lead pursues the certain fight,
And death in thunder overtakes their flight.
Cool breathes the morning air, and Winter's hand
Spreads wide her hoary mantle o'er the land;
Now to the copfe thy leffer fpaniel take,

330

355

prey;

340

345

Teach him to range the ditch and force the brake;
Not closest coverts can protect the game:

Hark! the dog opens; take thy certain aim.
The woodcock flutters; how he wavering flies!

The wood refounds: he wheels, he drops, he dies. 350
The towering hawk let future poets fing,
Who terror bears upon his foaring wing:
Let them on high the frighted hern furvey,
And lofty numbers paint their airy fray.

Nor

Nor fhall the mountain lark the Mufe detain,
That greets the morning with his early ftrain;
When, 'midft his fong, the twinkling glafs betrays,
While from each angle flash the glancing rays,
And in the fun the tranfient colours blaze,
Pride lures the little warbler from the fkies:
The light-enamour'd bird deluded dies.

355

}

360

365

But ftill the chace, a pleafing tafk, remains The hound muft open in these rural strains. Soon as Aurora drives away the night, And edges eastern clouds with rofy light, The healthy huntfman, with the chearful horn, Summons the dogs, and greets the dappled morn; The jocund thunder wakes th' enliven'd hounds, They rouze from fleep, and answer founds for founds; Wide through the furzy field their rout they take, 370 Their bleeding bofoms førce the thorny brake: The flying game their fmoaking noftrils trace, No bounding hedge obftructs their eager pace; The diftant mountains echo from afar, And hanging woods refound the flying war: The tuneful noise the sprightly courfer hears, Paws the green turf, and pricks his trembling ears; The flacken'd rein now gives him all his speed, Back flies the rapid ground beneath the steed; Hills, dales, and forefts, far behind remain, While the warm fcent draws-on the deep-mouth'd Where fhall the trembling hare a shelter find? Hark! death advances in each guft of wind! New ftratagems and doubling wiles she tries, Now circling turns, and now at large the flics;"

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380 train.

385

1

Till, fpent at laft, fhe pants, and heaves for breath,
Then lays her down, and waits devouring death.

But ftay, adventurous Muse! haft thou the force
To wind the twisted horn, to guide the horse?
To keep thy feat unmov'd, haft thou the fkill,
O'er the high gate, and down the headlong hill?
Canft thou the ftag's laborious chace direct,
Or the strong fox through all his arts detect ?
The theme demands a more experienc'd lay:
Ye mighty hunters! fpare this weak effay.

O happy plains, remote from war's alarms,
And all the ravages of hoftile arms!
And happy fhepherds, who, fecure from fear,
On open downs preserve your fleecy care!

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395

Whofe fpacious barns groan with increasing store, 400
And whirling flails disjoint the cracking floor!
No barbarous foldier, bent on cruel spoil,
Spreads defolation o'er your fertile foil;
No trampling fteed lays wafte the ripen'd grain,
Nor crackling fires devour the promis'd gain :
No flaming beacons caft their blaze afar,
The dreadful fignal of invafive war :

405

No trumpet's clangor wounds the mother's ear,
And calls the lover from his fwooning fair.
What happinefs the rural maid attends,
In chearful labour while each day she spends!
She gratefully receives what Heaven has fent,
And, rich in poverty, enjoys content
(Such happiness, and fuch unblemifa'd fame,

410

Ne'er glad the bofom of the courtly dame) :

415

She

She never feels the fpleen's imagin'd pains,
Nor melancholy stagnates in her veins ;
She never lofes life in thoughtless ease,
Nor on the velvet couch invites disease ;
Her home-fpun drefs in fimple neatness lies,
And for no glaring equipage fhe fighs:
Her reputation, which is all her boast,
In a malicious vifit ne'er was loft;

No midnight mafquerade her beauty wears,

420

And health, not paint, the fading bloom repairs. 425
If love's foft paffion in her bofom reign,

An equal paffion warms her happy fwain ;
No homebred jars her quiet ftate control,
Nor watchful jealousy torments her foul;
With fecret joy the fees her little race

Hang on her breaft, and her fmall cottage grace;
The fleecy ball their busy fingers cull,

Or from the spindle draw the lengthening wool:
Thus flow her hours with conftant peace of mind,
Till age the latest thread of life unwind.

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435

Ye happy fields, unknown to noise and strife,

The kind rewarders of induftrious life;
Ye fhady woods, where once I us'd to rove,
Alike indulgent to the Mufe and Love;
Ye murmuring ftreams that in mæanders roll,
The fweet composers of the pensive soul;
Farewell! The city calls me from your bowers:
Farewell, amufing thoughts and peaceful hours!

440

THE

THE FA N.

A POE Μ.

IN

THREE

BOOKS.

—ἔνθα δέ οἱ θελκτήρια πάλα τέτυκλο

Ἔνθ ̓ ἔνι μὲν φιλότης, ἐν δ ̓ ἵμερΘ, ἐν δ ̓ ὀαρισὺς,
Πάρφασις, ἥ τ ̓ ἔκλεψε νόον σύκα περ φρονεόντων

Τὸν ῥά οι ἔμβαλε χερσίν.