Hemmed in, besieged; not the least opening left
  To gleaming hope, the unhappy’s last reserve. 
  Where shall he turn? or whither fly?  Despair
  Gives courage to the weak.  Resolved to die,
530
  He fears no more, but rushes on his foes,
  And deals his deaths around; beneath his feet
  These grovelling lie, those by his antlers gored
  Defile the ensanguined plain.  Ah! see distressed
  He stands at bay against yon knotty trunk,
  That covers well his rear, his front presents
  An host of foes.  Oh! shun, ye noble train,
  The rude encounter, and believe your lives
  Your country’s due alone.  As now aloof
  They wing around, he finds his soul upraised
540
  To dare some great exploit; he charges home
  Upon the broken pack, that on each side
  Fly diverse; then as o’er the turf he strains,
  He vents the cooling stream, and up the breeze
  Urges his course with eager violence: 
  Then takes the soil, and plunges in the flood
  Precipitant; down the mid-stream he wafts
  Along, till (like a ship distressed, that runs
  Into some winding creek) close to the verge
  Of a small island, for his weary feet
550
  Sure anchorage he finds, there skulks immersed. 
  His nose alone above the wave draws in
  The vital air; all else beneath the flood
  Concealed, and lost, deceives each prying eye
  Of man or brute.  In vain the crowding pack
  Draw on the margin of the stream, or cut
  The liquid wave with oary feet, that move
  In equal time.  The gliding waters leave
  No trace behind, and his contracted pores
  But sparingly perspire:  the huntsman strains
560
  His labouring lungs, and puffs his cheeks in vain;
  At length a blood-hound bold, studious to kill,
  And exquisite of sense, winds him from far;
  Headlong he leaps into the flood, his mouth
  Loud opening spends amain, and his wide throat
  Swells every note with joy; then fearless dives
  Beneath the wave, hangs on his haunch, and wounds
  The unhappy brute, that flounders in the stream,
  Sorely distressed, and struggling strives to mount
  The steepy shore.  Haply once more escaped,
570
  Again he stands at bay, amid the groves
  Of willows, bending low their downy heads. 
  Outrageous transport fires the greedy pack;
  These swim the deep, and those crawl up with pain
  The slippery bank, while others on firm land
  Engage; the stag repels each bold assault,
  Maintains his post, and wounds for wounds returns. 
  As when some wily corsair boards a ship
  Full-freighted, or from Afric’s golden coasts,
  Or India’s wealthy strand, his bloody crew
580
  Upon her deck he slings; these in the deep
  Drop short, and swim to reach her steepy sides,
  And clinging, climb aloft; while those on board
  Urge on the work of fate; the master bold,