calls ixveuriges, finds out the game. For he follows the scent no further than the hare's form; from whence, after he has started her, he purfues her by fight. I am indebted for these two laft remarks to a reverend and very learned gentleman, whofe judgment in the belles lettres nobody disputes, and whose approbation gave me the affurance to publish this poem.

Oppian also observes, that the best fort of these finders were brought from Britain; this ifland having always been famous (as it is at this day) for the best breed of hounds, for perfons the best skilled in the art of hunting, and for horfes the most enduring to follow the chace. It is therefore ftrange that none of our poets have yet thought it worth their while to treat of this fubject; which is without doubt very noble in itself, and very well adapted to receive the most beautiful turns of poetry. Perhaps our poets have no great genius for hunting. Yet I hope, my brethren of the couples, by encouraging this first, but imperfect, effay, will fhew the world they have at leaft fome taste for poetry.

The ancients efteemed hunting, not only as a manly and warlike exercise, but as highly conducive to health. The famous Galen recommends it above all others, as not only exercising the body, but giving delight and entertainment to the mind. And he calls the inventors of this art wife men, and well-skilled in human nature. Lib. de parvæ pilæ exercitio.

The gentlemen, who are fond of a gingle at the clofe of every verfe, and think no poem truly mufical but

what is in rhyme, will here find themselves disappointed. If they be pleased to read over the short preface before the Paradife Loft, Mr. Smith's poem in memory of his friend Mr. John Philips, and the Archbishop of Cambray's letter to Monfieur Fontenelle, they may probably be of another opinion. For my own part, I shall not be ashamed to follow the example of Milton, Philips, Thomson, and all our best tragick writers.

Some few terms of art are dispersed here and there; but fuch only as are abfolutely requifite to explain my fubject. I hope in this the criticks will excufe me; for I am humbly of opinion, that the affectation, and not the neceffary ufe, is the proper object of their cenfure.

But I have done. I know the impatience of my brethren, when a fine day, and the concert of the kennel, invite them abroad. I fhall therefore leave my reader to fuch diverfion as he may find in the poem itfelf.

"En age, fegnes,

"Rumpe moras; vocat ingenti clamore Citharon,
86 Taygetique canes, domitrixque Epidaurus equorum;
"Et vox affenfu nemorum ingeminata remugit."
VIRG. Georg. iii.

Hark, away,

Caft far behind the lingering cares of life.
Citharon calls aloud, and in full cry
Thy hounds, Taygetus. Epidaurus trains
For us the generous steed; the hunter's shouts,
And chearing cries, affenting woods return.

то

WILLIAM SOMERVILE, Efq;

ON HIS POEM CALLED

THE

W

CH A CE.

HILE you, Sir, gain the steep ascent to fame,
And honours due to deathlefs merit claim;
To a weak Mufe a kind indulgence lend,
Fond with just praise your labours to commend,
And tell the world that Somervile's her friend.
Her incenfe guiltless of the forms of art
Breathes all the huntsman's honesty of heart;
Whofe fancy fill the pleasing scene retains
Of Edric's villa and Ardenna's plains:
Joys, which from change fuperior charms receiv'd,
The horn hoarfe founding by the lyre reliev'd:
When the day crown'd with rural chaste delight,
Refigns obfequious to the festive night;

The festive night awakes th' harmonious lay,
And in sweet verse recounts the triumphs of the day.
Strange! that the British Muse should leave so long,
The Chace, the sport of Britain's kings, unfung!
Distinguish'd land! by Heaven indulg'd to breed
The ftout, fagacious hound, and generous steed.
In vain! while yet no bard adorn'd our isle,
To celebrate the glorious fylvan toil.

For

For this what darling fon fhall feel thy fire,
God of th' unerring bow, and tuneful lyre ?
Our vows are heard-Attend, ye vocal throng,
Somervile meditates th' adventurous fong.
Bold to attempt, and happy to excel,

His numerous verfe the huntsman's art shall tell.
From him, ye British youths, a vigorous race,
Imbibe the various fcience of the chace;
And while the well-plann'd fyftem you admire,
Know Brunswick only could the work inspire;
A Georgick Muse awaits Augustan days,

And Somerviles will fing, when Fredericks give the bays.

JOHN NIXON.

то

Ο

NCE more, my friend, I touch the trembling lyre,
And in my bofom feel poetic fire.

For thee I quit the law's more rugged ways,
To pay my humble tribute to thy lays,
What, though I daily turn each learned fage,
And labour through the unenlighten'd page:
Wak'd by thy lines, the borrow'd flames I feel,
As flints give fire when aided by the steel.
Though in fulphureous clouds of smoke confin'd,
Thy rural scenes fpring fresh into my mind.
Thy genius in such colours paints the chace,
The real to fictitious joys give place.

When the wild mufick charms my ravish'd ear,
How dull, how taftelefs Handel's notes appear !
Ev'n Farinelli's felf the palm refigns,

He yields-but to the musick of thy lines.
If friends to poetry can yet be found;
Who without blushing sense prefer to sound;
Then let this foft, this foul-enfeebling band,
Thefe warbling minstrels, quit the beggar'd land.

They