hushed,
  No clamour loud, no frantic joy be heard,
  Lest the wild hound run gadding o’er the plain
  Untractable, nor hear thy chiding voice. 
  Now gently put her off; see how direct
  To her known mews she flies!  Here, huntsman, bring
  (But without hurry) all thy jolly hounds,

  And calmly lay them in.  How low they stoop,
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  And seem to plough the ground! then all at once
  With greedy nostrils snuff the fuming steam
  That glads their fluttering hearts.  As winds let loose
  From the dark caverns of the blustering god,
  They burst away, and sweep the dewy lawn. 
  Hope gives them wings while she’s spurred on by fear. 
  The welkin rings; men, dogs, hills, rocks, and woods
  In the full concert join.  Now, my brave youths,
  Stripped for the chase, give all your souls to joy!

  See how their coursers, than the mountain roe
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  More fleet, the verdant carpet skim, thick clouds
  Snorting they breathe, their shining hoofs scarce print
  The grass unbruised; with emulation fired
  They strain to lead the field, top the barred gate,
  O’er the deep ditch exulting bound, and brush
  The thorny-twining hedge:  the riders bend
  O’er their arched necks; with steady hands, by turns
  Indulge their speed, or moderate their rage.

  Where are their sorrows, disappointments, wrongs,
  Vexations, sickness, cares?  All, all are gone,
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  And with the panting winds lag far behind. 
     Huntsman! her gait observe, if in wide rings
  She wheel her mazy way, in the same round
  Persisting still, she’ll foil the beaten track. 
  But if she fly, and with the favouring wind
  Urge her bold course; less intricate thy task: 
  Push on thy pack.  Like some poor exiled wretch
  The frighted chase leaves her late dear abodes,
  O’er plains remote she stretches far away,
  Ah! never to return! for greedy Death
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  Hovering exults, secure to seize his prey. 
     Hark! from yon covert, where those towering oaks
  Above the humble copse aspiring rise,
  What glorious triumphs burst in every gale
  Upon our ravished ears!  The hunters shout,
  The clanging horns swell their sweet-winding notes,
  The pack wide-opening load the trembling air
  With various melody; from tree to tree

  The propagated cry redoubling bounds,
  And winged zephyrs waft the floating joy
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  Through all the regions near:  afflictive birch
  No more the school-boy dreads, his prison broke,
  Scampering he flies, nor heeds his master’s call;
  The weary traveller forgets his road,
  And climbs the adjacent hill; the ploughman leaves
  The unfinished furrow; nor his bleating flocks
  Are now the shepherd’s joy; men, boys, and girls
  Desert the unpeopled village; and wild crowds
  Spread o’er the plain, by the sweet