THE FOX-CHASE:
Great Prussia bids the patriot trump to blow,
The free-born gather, and around him glow:
So, at the call of Marcus-grateful sound-
Men, steeds, and dogs, tumult'ous pour around.
The youth upon their coursers vault with grace;
The coursers neigh, impatient for the chase:
Their short and eager steps the bit restrains :
They paw and pant, reluctant to the reins.
Unfolding gates a spacious passage yield—
Forward we move, and issue to the field.
Far within cover thoughtless Reynard lay,
And slept the riots of the night away.
Late, from the ravage of a neighb'ring farm,
He had withdrawn, impenitent of harm;
The tainted gales his felon steps pursue,
And tell his travels to the conscious dew.
But he, whom many a 'scape had render'd sure,
For slights and wiles unrivall'd, slept secure,
In unsuspecting spirits blithe and bland,
Nor dreams the dreadful reck'ning is at hand.
Trueman, whom for sagacious nose we hail
The chief, first touch'd the scarce-distinguish'd gale;
His tongue was doubtful, and no hound replies:
"Haux ! wind him!-haux!" the tuneful
huntsinan cries.
At once the list ning pack asunder spread,
With tail erect, and with inquiring head:
With busy nostrils they foretaste their prey,
And snuff the lawn-impearling dews away.
Now here, now there, they chop upon the scent,
Their tongues in undulating ether spent:
More joyous now, and louder by degrees,
Warm, and more warm, they catch the coming
Now with full symphony they jointly hail
The welcome tidings of a surer gale;
Along the vale they pour the swelling note;
Their ears and dewlaps on the morning float.
How vainly art aspires, by rival sounds,
To match the native melody of hounds!
Not eunuchs, warbling in the vocal choir,
Though join'd by pipe and string, such bliss inspire,
When with joint sense they quaff the tainted gale,
And in full concert ring their morning peal:
The list'ning planets from their orbits bend,
And the still elements with joy attend.
Again the doubtful scent our hope defeats :
"To cover-hark!"—the huntsman's voice repeats.
Wide on the left a neighb'ring copse was spread,
And thither th' obsequious pack he led.
But more aloof the parting sportsmen scout,
Watch ev'ry path, and skirt the wood about.
The huntsman now, with expectation flush, [bush:
"Haux, fox!" he cries, and strikes the hopeful
To cover straight the spreading hounds now take,
Snuff ev'ry tuft, and spy in ev'ry brake.
Again the breeze betrays the tainted ground,
And Lovely tells the gladsome tidings round;
"Hark! Lovely!-hark!"-deep echoing glens
Ah, hapless foxes! ever blind to fate!
Without a cause dejected and elate.
Darkling ye walk, unconscious of your end,
Nor mark the gath'ring mischiefs that impend!
The shrewd and simple share an equal lot-
In death the wizard finds himself a sot.
That luckless morn, when first along the glade
The tell-tale dews his nightly steps betray'd,
Wrapp'd in soft slumbers Reynard press'd his bed,
And there on visionary poultry fed.
He dream'd, as by a neighb'ring grange he crept,
Crouch'd while he mov'd, and linger'd as he stept,
Two virgin pullets fix'd his side regard,
Plump from the sounding barn and pamp'ring yard:
Near, and more near, he steals with winking eyes,
Then springs at once, and seizes on his prize.
Loud piercing screams th' affrighted welkin fill,
And down his jaws the luscious streams distil.
Ev'n in this rapturous moment, while his taste
Gorg'd the full riot of a fancy'd feast,
Lovely's near note, far echoing, pierc'd his ears—
He wakes, and inward shrinks to shun his fears.
Upward he starts-erects his ears-and then
Hears the loud "Hark!”—and down he sinks again.
Trembling he strives to re-assure his heart
With a fresh promise of long prosp'ring art;
Then with sly caution, crouching as he rose,
From his warm kennel's ancient seat he goes;
The seat to which he shall return no more,
Now with chill moss and dropping branches hoar.
Through frizzled thickets, and through yielding
sprays,
He thwarts each path, and treads a puzzling maze.
So steer'd, some devious vessel shifts her sail,
And, veering, gains upon th' adverse gale.
Now, from the mansion of his late repose
Rank steams and reeking exhalations rose;
The tepid vapours are diffus'd around,
And reach the nerves of each inquiring hound:
With answering notes, their heads tow'rds Heav'n
they cast,
And in full concert hail the rich repast.
The sculking caitiff, who beneath the spread
Of fav'ring umbrage veil'd his luckless head,
Close at his ear believes the distant peals,
And a whole host of demons at his heels.
His instant terrours cast all wiles away,
He breaks from cover, and demands the day:
O'er the fair field he flies his num'rous foes,
And down the wind, as swift as wind he goes.
A watchful scout his bold elopement spies-
"Ho!-tally-ho!"-triumphantly he cries.
His rash alarm the gen'rous Marcus blames-
"Law!-give him law!"-as loudly he exclaims.
The distant sportsmen gather at the shout,
As bees they buzz and close their chief about;
The fervid youth attending crowd the plain,
And bind the crested coursers to the rein. [throats,
The choiring hounds, with deep harmonious
Fill the charm'd wood, and swell the doubling notes;
Sweeter than those of that enchanting strain
That still'd the surge on the Trinacrian main,
When to the mast, the Grecian, wisely bound,
Scarce dar'd the tempting magic of the sound.
The dogs, a travers'd labyrinth unwind,
Subtler than that which Dædalus design'd.
By slow degrees the doubling wile is won,
Trac'd through the shade, and push'd into the sun;
There the broad airs a livelier scent assume,
And greet their senses with a full perfume.
Then, as a shaft from the withholding thong,
They shoot away, and pour the plains along.
No more the youth their eager steeds restrain;
Ardent they start, and loose the granted rein:
The steeds spring forth, and from the rein unbound,
Devour the less'ning distance of the ground;
They stretch and strain each nerve and active limb,
Sweep down the slopes, and o'er the levels skim.
Their force a gen'rous emulation fires;
Beneath our speed the fleeting earth retires.
In a glad frenzy we atempt the sky;
Nor seem to run, or ride, but mount and fly!
Now lightly o'er opposing walls we bound,
Clear the broad trench, and top the rising mound:
No stop, no time for respite or recess;
On, and still on, fox, dogs, and horses press.
The hounds outbreath'd, from their late tuneful throat
Now break-half short-the disappointed note.
Now o'er the smoking vale each gen'rous steed
Relaxes from the fervour of his speed:
Push'd up the bray, indignantly they feel
The clanking lash, and the retorted steel;
Then down the steep with quick'ning rapture go,
And stretch and sweat upon the plain below.
Athwart one way a tumbling stream was laid
That to the lake its daily tribute paid:
Here the first stop our rapid course delays,
And with a grateful interruption stays.
Upon the bank, in watchful silence still,
We breathe the rising freshness of the rill;
We pant-we drop our languid limbs-and all,
Like fainting Cephalus, on Aura call.
Dark as a mist that to the distant view
Caps the brown mountains with a murky blue;
So from our steeds the thick'ning vapours rise,
Infold their riders, and obscure the skies.
The glowing dogs, forgetful of their foe,
Full on the stream their headlong bodies throw,
Like iron on the whizzing smithy flung,
And lap, and pant, and loll the length'ning tongue.
Now, from the west, a fivelier gale upsprings,
And with new nerves each listless member strings.
In terms still varying their harmonious sounds,
The huntsman calls, and cheers his circling hounds.
Now up, now down, now cross the stream he beats-
"Haux!-wind him!-haux!-Fox, find him!"
he repeats.
Now round and round a fruitless search he plies,
And now a tour of wider circuit tries.
But no intelligence rewards his care;
No note confess'd the fox was ever there-
As though some opening gulf had gorg'd our prey,
Or sudden power bad snatch'd him quite away.
But Reynard, hotly push'd, and close pursu'd, Yet fruitful in expedients to elude,
When to the bourn's refreshing bank he came,
Had plung'd, all reeking, in the friendly stream.
The folding waves his failing pow'rs restore,
And close the gates of every fuming pore.
Then down the channel, over flats and steeps,
He steals, and trots-or wades, or swims, or creeps;
Till, where the pebbled shores the surges break,
He quits his feet, and lanches on the lake.
As when some coasting skiff, with shatter'd geers,
A cautious course 'twixt land and ocean steers,
Fearful alike on either dang'rous hand
To trust the boist'rous sea or faithless land:
Possess'd of equal fears and equal lore,
So Reynard coasts aloof, and shuns the shore,
Lest the uncover'd odour should exhale,
And tell sure tidings to the trait'rous gale.
Not distant far, upon the beach there stood The hoary growth of a majestic wood, Whose age of oak and intervening yew Not the great-grandsires of the living knew: The flooring, deep beneath the distant shade, With thorn and frizzling brush was thick inlaid, While clamouring rooks, scarce heard above our Amid the cloud-commingling branches bred. [head,
Here Reynard lands, all dripping from the lake, And seeks the shelter of his wonted brake. Arriv'd, he shakes, and rolls, and turns him round; Then entering, sinks o'ertoil'd upon the ground: Stretch'd at full length, secure of care he lies, And instant slumbers seal his willing eyes.
The chop-fall'n hounds meantime are heard no more,
But silent range along the winding shore.
Hopeless alike the hunters lag behind,,
And give all thoughts of Reynard to the wind-
All, save one wily rival of his art,
Who vows unpitying vengeance ere they part.
Along the coast his watchful course be bent,
Careful to catch and wind the thwarting scent;
And last, to make his boastful promise good,
Enter'd the precincts of the fatal wood.
There, through the gloom, he leads one hopeless train,
And cheers the long-desponding pack in vain ;
Till Ringwood first the faint effluvia caught,
And with loud tongue reform'd their old default.
Rous'd at the swell of that reviving sound,
Our hopes rekindle, and our hearts rebound'
Eager we spread through furze and mingling brush,
And lash the woof of each afflicted bush;
While here and there the busy dogs reveal
The languid tidings of the dubious gale.
Meanwhile the fox, unconscious of the chase,
Repair'd his late fatigues, and slept in peace;
Nor mark'd the cry of many a hostile tongue
That through the copious forest loudly rung,
Till a bold youth approach'd his thoughtless bed,
And struck the bower that trembl'd o'er his head.
As when amaz'd upstarted Manoah's heir,
Shorn of his strength and his enchanted hair,
While his peal'd ears receiv'd the hostile sound
Of shouting foes that girt his couch around;
So Reynard wakes with sudden horrours chill,
Scant of his force, and shorten'd of his skill.
Bold through despair, he breaks at once away,
Bounds through the brush, and rushes into day!
The fields, the shores, the hills, each wood resounds
With echoing hunters, and with op'ning hounds:
Rocks, waters, undulating air, and sky,
Become one peal, and propagate the cry.
From the firm land, and from the trembling lake,
Full on our ears the tuneful thunders break,
Roll o'er the waves, and strike the distant coast,
And far beyond, mid heav'n-top'd hills, are lost.
Again we start, we bound, we stretch amain, O'er the brown heath, and o'er the bright champaign: Again o'er gates we fly, through hedges rush, Through moorlands labour, and through thickets
Intense again our gath'ring fervour grows—
Again the coursers smoke-the rider glows:
Distinguish'd steeds their fellow steeds outwind,
And leave their late associates far behind;
While laggard hounds, that form a lengthen'd train,
Run, hoarse and mute, and panting o'er the plain.
O'erbreath'd we come where, 'twixt impending Ran the joint current of two gurgling rills; [hills, On either hand, adown each fearful steep,
Hung forth the shaggy horrours, dark and deep: Here, through brown umbrage, glow'd the vivid
And headlong slopes, and winding paths between ; Growth above many a growth, tall trees arose, The tops of these scarce veil'd the roots of those;
A winding court, where wand'ring Fancy walk'd,
And to herself responsive Echo talk'd.
Here stay'd again, we hail the kind delay,
And down the shadowy paths delighted stray;
The gath'ring pack unite, and enter in,
Then spread, and pierce the darkness of the glen.
Now here, now there, now sole, and now combin'd,
They catch the wand'ring odour from the wind;
Through many a traverse, many-twirling maze,
And all the wondrous wisdom of his ways,
The fox they trace, unrav'ling as they go,
Discreetly sure, and musically slow;
Now in joint harmony they pour their notes,
And echo answers from ten thousand throats.
From hill to hill, with replicated sounds,
The peal rolls down the glen, and still rebounds,
Packs beyond packs seem sweetly to reply,
And waft to distant climes the less'ning cry.
At length, from path to path, and glade to glade,
Midst woven thickets and impending shade,
Through the steep wilderness their way they won,
And reach'd the shelve that open'd to the Sun:
Then up the slope they speed them, swift as wind,
As swift the hunters press, and shout behind.
But now no more our coursers pull the rein
O'er the firm greensward, or expanded plain,
Through rude and craggy grounds, through miry
clay,
We urge with peril our o'erlabour'd way.
Cast, here and there, along the dang'rous course,
Lies spread the rider, and the flound'ring horse;
But onward still the foremost press, nor mind
To ask for luckless friends that limp behind.
At last the bottom of a mount we reach'd,
Whose top from sea to sea its prospect stretch'd,
And seem'd a look of stately scorn to throw
On the proud works of little men below.
With half a pack, and scarcely half a train,
We dare all dangers, and all toil disdain;
The dogs near faint, yet still on slaughter bent,
With tongues abrupt avow the burning scent;
The pendent cliffs audaciously essay,
And trot, or crawl, or climb their desp'rate way.
While, slanting, we avoid the headlong deep,
Yet bend, press on, and labour up the steep.
Where the brow beetling from the mountain
sprung,
With stunted thorn and shaggy rocks o'erhung,
Beneath whose base a sanded bench, with shade
Of furze and tangling thicket was o'erlaid,
Reynard his palace kept, his regal seat,
His fort of sure resource, and last retreat;
The rest were but the mansions of a night,
For casual respite, or for fresh delight.
Here a vulcanian Cacus erst was said
To hale the carcasses whose blood he shed;
Or as in rolls of old romance we read
Of rav'ning giants, an enormous breed,
With grizly bones who hung their spacious bower,
Dire trophies of their crue ty and pow'r:
So bones and blood did Reynard's hall distain,
And whit'ning skeletons confess'd the slain;
Hens, leverets, lambs-sad trophies of his art,
His raging appetite, and ruthless heart.
To this dread fort, with many a hard essay,
We win with peril our o'er-iabour'd way;
At length our journey, not our work, is done,
-The way indeed, but not the fort is won.
Here had the felon earth'd ;-with many a hound
And many a horse we gird his hold around:
The hounds 'fore Heav'n their accusation spread,
And cry for justice on his caitiff head.
Meanwhile, with cutlasses we clear each bush
Of platted blackthorn, and of stubborn brush,
Remove the covert of befriending night,
And on the cavern's entrance pour the light.-
Aghast, and trembling in the burst of day,
With haggard eyes the shrinking savage lay;
In vain he glares his desp'rate glance around,
No scape-no stratagem-no hope is found!
"He dies!-he dies!" the echoing hills reply,
And the loud triumph rends the vaulted sky.
Ir comes; the wish'd, the long-expected morn
"Thou Son of Man, thou Son of God, be born!"
Lo, he descends, and bows the yielding skies:
To meet him, the exulting valleys rise:
Death shrinks and trembles, fearing to be slain;
And all Hell quakes throughout its deep domain,
Yet comes he not, array'd in worldly show,
Nor in the weakness of man's power below:
In human flesh, his Godhead he conceals;
In human form, immensity he veils :
Eternal, he assumes a mortal frame:
And, in subjection, lo, the world's supreme!
'Tis come; the day of health, the saving morn→→
The Son of God, the Babe of Love is born!
Behold, all Heaven descends upon the wing,
And choiring angels "Glory, glory!" sing;
"Glory to God, from whom such bounties flow!
And peace on Earth, good-will to man below!"
"Tidings we bring, glad tidings of free grace,
Tidings of joy to all of human race!
The promis'd day is come, the great event—
To you a child is born, a son is sent;
A Saviour, Christ, the lowly, the supreme,
Gracious to pardon, mighty to redeem !
Within his hand the nations shall be weigh'd,
The world upon his infant-shoulder laid.
His name is Wonderful; he shall be styl'd
The God of Power, the all-embracing child;
Th' embosom'd Sun, whose inward beam imparts
Wisdom to souls, the Counsellor of hearts,
Whose days nor know commencement nor increase;
The everlasting Father, Prince of Peace!
Your saving God, in Bethlehem ye shall find,
Swath'd in a crib, on humbling straw reclin'd;
He, who all things unites and comprehends,
To stable with his lowliest brutes descends.
Your songs, your songs, ye morning stars, employ;
And, all ye sons of glory, shout for joy!"
Approaching seraphim the babe surround,
And, with adoring reverence, bow profound;
Amaz'd to see their Infinite confin'd,
The Ancient of all days in infancy enshrin'd.
With wond'ring eye, they pierce his filmy skin
And lucid flesh, when, lo, a Heaven within,
Wide as the round where yonder planets roll,
Though stretch'd to infinite from either pole;
Love, to whose depth no measure can descend;
And bliss, encircling blessings, without end.
See the dear, little, he'pless, mighty hands,
So meekly yielded to maternal bands!
'T is theirs the powers of darkness to repel,
To crush the pride of Earth, and wrath of Hell;
To lift the fall'n, to prop the feeble knee,
To set the pris'ners of his Israel free;
To burst the iron gates of sin and pain,
To number time and death among the slain; Captive to lead captivity on high,
Of thy Creator if thou art bereft,
Think, to redeem, no other God is left!"
He listens not,-th' infernal powers impel:
He long'd, he pluck'd, he tasted-and he fell.
O, what a fall! a steep from high to low!
Follow'd by blood-bought myriads through the sky; Extremes of bliss, to what extremes of woe!
His kingdom in eternal peace to found,
And beam forth blessings without end or bound.
Ye sophists, who, with scientific lore,
Nature's recluse arcana would explore;
Who, in your dreams of fancy, mould and wield
The mazy worlds of yon empyreal field,
And boast to have retrac'd, by reason's force,
Th' unmeasur'd chain of sequels to their source;
Come forward with your length and depth of thought,
And see all human learning set at nought:
Here, try to mete, to compass, to define,
And plumb your God with your five-fathom'd line!
Ye mighty too, beneath whose tyrant brow
Pale vassals shake, and servile nations bow,
Perish your pride! and let your glories fade!
Lo, Nature's monarch in a manger laid!
Behold, the Word, at whose creative might
The Heavens and Earth sprung forth to form and
In love descends, unutterably mild,
And smiles the world's salvation-in a child!
No clarions yet proclaim him King of Kings; No ensigns speak him the Supreme of things: Humbly he lays his purple robe aside, Until, for man, it shall in blood be dy'd; Nor shall the crown his regal brow adorn, Till his love twist it of the pointed thorn!
Ah, Father, Author, God of boundless grace! What, what is man, with all his recreant race, That they with thine own Jesus should be weigh'd; And, for their ransom, such a price be paid?
'T is true, that man from his Creator came
All-bright, as from the Sun his effluent beam;
Lord of these Heavens and Earth, the seas that flow,
The lands that germinate, and stars that glow.
Lovely without, and glorious all within,
He knew no sorrow, for he knew no sin :
His will was with the Father's will inform'd;
His love was with the love of Jesus warm'd;
The Eternal Light, that lights the solar ray,
Shed forth the peace of his diviner day;
He felt the bliss of the supremely bless'd,
And God's own Heaven was open'd in his breast.
But ah! he yet was frail, nor understood
There's but one Will, all-just, all-wise, all-good;
The Will, throughout the universe, who knows,
Alone, to make, to fit, and to dispose.
The wretch, who dares a diffrent will to frame,
Brings war into the works of Heaven's supreme;
Of pow'r would e'en Omnipotence defraud,
And blasts his being in the will of God.
Hence, man, so great, so glorious, and so good,
Was tempted from the tow'r in which he stood,
Lur'd by external baits of sensual taste,⚫
He wish'd to gratify, he long'd to feast;
The good of his subjected world to know;
Distinct from God, to win a Heav'n below;
To found a new dominion of his own,
And reign sufficient to himself alone.
"Ingrate-O stop thee on the headlong brink! Ere thou dost take the fearful venture,-think! Think, from the God thou wishest to forego, All that thou art, thy bliss and being flow; And, can the creatures yield thee, should they list, More than the source where thou and they exist?
Plump, from his Heav'n, this second angel fell
Down his own depth, his God-abandon'd Hell:
Horrour of horrours! darkness and despair!
He look'd for comfort-but no gleam was there!
O Love, Love, Love! stupendous, wide and
steep!
High o'er all heights, below damnation deep!
In vain the desp'rate rebel would essay,
From thee to tear his being, far away
Thy saving hand arrests his prone career;
For, to thy presence, ev'ry place is here!
For him thou hadst prepar'd a mediate seat,
Meet for his taste, and fitting to his state;
A seat of fleshy organs, gross and frail,
To dissolution doom'd, and form'd to fail.
He wakes to a new world, and, with new eyes, Sees unknown elements, and unknown skies; The husk and surface of that bless'd abode, Where late he dwelt, internal, with his God.
He turns his eyes upon his carnal frame, And sees it, all, a seat of filth and shame; Fellow'd with brutes, with brutes to take his bed, Like brutes to propagate, be born, and fed: But diff'rent far the table and the treat; Earth is their Heav'n, their home, and native seat: For brutes, unearn'd, the ready banquet lies, Apt to their taste, and obvious to their eyes; But man must wring it from a grudging soil, And win scant sustenance with sweat and toil.
He looks abroad, and sees the new-dropp'd fawn Cloth'd without care, and frisking on the lawn; But finds his own new carcass bleak and bare, And shiv'ring in a strange and hostile air. Yet know, O man, that all which can betide From hard-fang'd avarice, or o'erbearing pride, That art can compass from the flood or field, All that these four-fold elements can yield, Is barely to afford thee warmth and bread, Like fellow brutes to be array'd and fed; But ah, all, all, incapable, as wind, To yield one morsel to the famish'd mind! This the wretch finds (beguil'd by devilish fraud) The sum of all, for which he left his God; The sum of all the good-he yet was blind To half the evils that came close behind.
Late lord of land and water, air and flame,
He wielded, at his will, their cumbrous frame;
Could pierce Earth's dark and various entrails
through;
Could call forth all their wonders to his view;
Through minim forms th' internal maze could trace,
And lift the broad-back'd mountains from their base.
To him of ev'ry foliage, flow'r, and blade,
The fabric, use, and beauty, lay display'd;
Of living specks he pierc'd the fine machine,
And open'd to himself the world within;
Saw all with glory, as with skill, replete,
And trac'd the artist to his inmost seat.
But now, fall'n, fall'n from his imperial tow'r,
'Reft of his glory, empty'd of his pow'r;
Degraded, hurl'd from his celestial steep,
And sunk in flesh, a dungeon dark and deep;
(Distance immense in nature, not in space,
But wider, wider far, than place from place!)
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