behind
  In wary modest guise, to his own nose
  Confiding sure; give him full scope to work
  His winding way, and with thy voice applaud
  His patience, and his care; soon shalt thou view
  The hopeful pupil leader of his tribe,
  And all the listening pack attend his call. 
     Oft lead them forth where wanton lambkins play,
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  And bleating dams with jealous eyes observe
  Their tender care.  If at the crowding flock
  He bay presumptuous, or with eager haste
  Pursue them scattered o’er the verdant plain;
  In the foul fact attached, to the strong ram
  Tie fast the rash offender.  See! at first
  His horned companion, fearful, and amazed,
  Shall drag him trembling o’er the rugged ground;
  Then with his load fatigued, shall turn a-head,
   And with his curled hard front incessant peal
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  The panting wretch; till breathless and astunned,
  Stretched on the turf he lie.  Then spare not thou
  The twining whip, but ply his bleeding sides
  Lash after lash, and with thy threatening voice,
  Harsh-echoing from the hills, inculcate loud
  His vile offence.  Sooner shall trembling doves
  Escaped the hawk’s sharp talons, in mid air,
  Assail their dangerous foe, than he once more
  Disturb the peaceful flocks.  In tender age
  Thus youth is trained; as curious artists bend
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  The taper, pliant twig; or potters form
  Their soft and ductile clay to various shapes. 
     Nor is’t enough to breed; but to preserve
  Must be the huntsman’s care.  The stanch old hounds
  Guides of thy pack, though but in number few,
  Are yet of great account; shall oft untie
  The Gordian knot, when reason at a stand
  Puzzling is lost, and all thy art is vain. 
  O’er clogging fallows, o’er dry plastered roads,
  O’er floated meads, o’er plains with flocks distained
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  Rank-scenting, these must lead the dubious way. 
  As party-chiefs in senates who preside,
  With pleaded reason and with well turned speech
  Conduct the staring multitude; so these
  Direct the pack, who with joint cry approve,
  And loudly boast discoveries not their own. 
     Unnumbered accidents, and various ills,
  Attend thy pack, hang hovering o’er their heads,
  And point the way that leads to Death’s dark cave. 
  Short is their span; few at the date arrive
  Of ancient Argus in old Homer’s song
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  So highly honoured:  kind, sagacious brute! 
  Not even Minerva’s wisdom could conceal
  Thy much-loved master from thy nicer sense. 
  Dying, his lord he owned, viewed him all o’er
  With eager eyes, then closed those eyes, well pleased. 
     Of lesser ills the Muse declines to sing,
  Nor stoops so low; of these each groom can tell
  The proper remedy.  But oh! what care! 
  What prudence can prevent madness, the worst