The Poetical Works of Addison; Gay's Fables; and Somerville's Chase Part 43

If now perchance through the weak fence escaped, Far up the wind he roves, with open mouth Inhales the cooling breeze, nor man, nor beast He spares, implacable. The hunter-horse, _240 Once kind a.s.sociate of his sylvan toils, (Who haply now without the kennel's mound Crops the rank mead, and listening hears with joy The cheering cry, that morn and eve salutes His raptured sense) a wretched victim falls.

Unhappy quadruped! no more, alas!

Shall thy fond master with his voice applaud Thy gentleness, thy speed; or with his hand Stroke thy soft dappled sides, as he each day Visits thy stall, well pleased; no more shalt thou _250 With sprightly neighings, to the winding horn And the loud opening pack in concert joined, Glad his proud heart. For oh! the secret wound Rankling inflames, he bites the ground and dies.

Hence to the village with pernicious haste Baleful he bends his course: the village flies Alarmed; the tender mother in her arms Hugs close the trembling babe; the doors are barred, And flying curs, by native instinct taught, Shun the contagious bane; the rustic bands _260 Hurry to arms, the rude militia seize Whate'er at hand they find; clubs, forks, or guns From every quarter charge the furious foe, In wild disorder, and uncouth array: Till now with wounds on wounds oppressed and gored, At one short poisonous gasp he breathes his last.

Hence to the kennel, Muse, return, and view With heavy heart that hospital of woe: Where Horror stalks at large; insatiate Death Sits growling o'er his prey: each hour presents _270 A different scene of ruin and distress.

How busy art thou, Fate! and how severe Thy pointed wrath! the dying and the dead Promiscuous lie; o'er these the living fight In one eternal broil; not conscious why, Nor yet with whom. So drunkards in their cups, Spare not their friends, while senseless squabble reigns.

Huntsman! it much behoves thee to avoid The perilous debate! Ah! rouse up all Thy vigilance, and tread the treacherous ground _280 With careful step. Thy fires unquenched preserve, As erst the vestal flame; the pointed steel In the hot embers hide; and if surprised Thou feel'st the deadly bite, quick urge it home Into the recent sore, and cauterise The wound; spare not thy flesh, nor dread the event: Vulcan shall save when Aesculapius fails.

Here, should the knowing Muse recount the means To stop this growing plague. And here, alas!

Each hand presents a sovereign cure, and boasts _290 Infallibility, but boasts in vain.

On this depend, each to his separate seat Confine, in fetters bound; give each his mess Apart, his range in open air; and then If deadly symptoms to thy grief appear, Devote the wretch, and let him greatly fall, A generous victim for the public weal.

Sing, philosophic Muse, the dire effects Of this contagious bite on hapless man.

The rustic swains, by long tradition taught _300 Of leeches old, as soon as they perceive The bite impressed, to the sea-coasts repair.

Plunged in the briny flood, the unhappy youth Now journeys home secure; but soon shall wish The seas as yet had covered him beneath The foaming surge, full many a fathom deep.

A fate more dismal, and superior ills Hang o'er his head devoted. When the moon, Closing her monthly round, returns again To glad the night; or when full orbed she s.h.i.+nes _310 High in the vault of heaven; the lurking pest Begins the dire a.s.sault. The poisonous foam, Through the deep wound instilled with hostile rage, And all its fiery particles saline, Invades the arterial fluid; whose red waves Tempestuous heave, and their cohesion broke, Fermenting boil; intestine war ensues, And order to confusion turns embroiled.

Now the distended vessels scarce contain The wild uproar, but press each weaker part, _320 Unable to resist: the tender brain And stomach suffer most; convulsions shake His trembling nerves, and wandering pungent pains Pinch sore the sleepless wretch; his fluttering pulse Oft intermits; pensive, and sad, he mourns His cruel fate, and to his weeping friends Laments in vain; to hasty anger p.r.o.ne, Resents each slight offence, walks with quick step, And wildly stares; at last with boundless sway The tyrant frenzy reigns. For as the dog _330 (Whose fatal bite conveyed the infectious bane) Raving he foams, and howls, and barks, and bites.

Like agitations in his boiling blood Present like species to his troubled mind; His nature, and his actions all canine.

So as (old Homer sung) the a.s.sociates wild Of wandering Ithacus, by Circe's charms To swine transformed, ran grunting through the groves.

Dreadful example to a wicked world!

See there distressed he lies! parched up with thirst, _340 But dares not drink. Till now at last his soul Trembling escapes, her noisome dungeon leaves, And to some purer region wings away.

One labour yet remains, celestial Maid!

Another element demands thy song.

No more o'er craggy steeps, through coverts thick With pointed thorn, and briers intricate, Urge on with horn and voice the painful pack But skim with wanton wing the irriguous vale, Where winding streams amid the flowery meads _350 Perpetual glide along; and undermine The caverned banks, by the tenacious roots Of h.o.a.ry willows arched; gloomy retreat Of the bright scaly kind; where they at will, On the green watery reed their pasture graze, Suck the moist soil, or slumber at their ease, Rocked by the restless brook, that draws aslope Its humid train, and laves their dark abodes.

Where rages not oppression? Where, alas!

Is innocence secure? Rapine and spoil _360 Haunt even the lowest deeps; seas have their sharks, Rivers and ponds inclose the ravenous pike; He in his turn becomes a prey; on him The amphibious otter feasts. Just is his fate Deserved; but tyrants know no bounds; nor spears That bristle on his back, defend the perch From his wide greedy jaws; nor burnished mail The yellow carp; nor all his arts can save The insinuating eel, that hides his head Beneath the slimy mud; nor yet escapes _370 The crimson-spotted trout, the river's pride, And beauty of the stream. Without remorse, This midnight pillager ranging around, Insatiate swallows all. The owner mourns The unpeopled rivulet, and gladly hears The huntsman's early call, and sees with joy The jovial crew, that march upon its banks In gay parade, with bearded lances armed.

This subtle spoiler of the beaver kind, Far off, perhaps, where ancient alders shade The deep still pool; within some hollow trunk _380 Contrives his wicker couch: whence he surveys His long purlieu, lord of the stream, and all The finny shoals his own. But you, brave youths, Dispute the felon's claim; try every root, And every reedy bank; encourage all The busy-spreading pack, that fearless plunge Into the flood, and cross the rapid stream.

Bid rocks and caves, and each resounding sh.o.r.e, Proclaim your bold defiance; loudly raise _390 Each cheering voice, till distant hills repeat The triumphs of the vale. On the soft sand See there his seal impressed! and on that bank Behold the glittering spoils, half-eaten fish, Scales, fins, and bones, the leavings of his feast.

Ah! on that yielding sag-bed, see, once more His seal I view. O'er yon dank rushy marsh The sly goose-footed prowler bends his course, And seeks the distant shallows. Huntsman, bring Thy eager pack; and trail him to his couch.

_400 Hark! the loud peal begins, the clamorous joy, The gallant chiding, loads the trembling air.

Ye Naiads fair, who o'er these floods preside, Raise up your dripping heads above the wave, And hear our melody. The harmonious notes Float with the stream; and every winding creek And hollow rock, that o'er the dimpling flood Nods pendant; still improve from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e Our sweet reiterated joys. What shouts!

What clamour loud! What gay heart-cheering sounds _410 Urge through, the breathing bra.s.s their mazy way!

Nor choirs of Tritons glad with sprightlier strains The dancing billows, when proud Neptune rides In triumph o'er the deep. How greedily They snuff the fishy steam, that to each blade Rank-scenting clings! See! how the morning dews They sweep, that from their feet besprinkling drop Dispersed, and leave a track oblique behind.

Now on firm land they range; then in the flood They plunge tumultuous; or through reedy pools _420 Rustling they work their way: no holt escapes Their curious search. With quick sensation now The fuming vapour stings; flutter their hearts, And joy redoubled bursts from every mouth In louder symphonies. Yon hollow trunk, That with its h.o.a.ry head incurved, salutes The pa.s.sing wave, must be the tyrant's fort, And dread abode. How these impatient climb, While others at the root incessant bay: They put him down. See, there he dives along!

_430 The ascending bubbles mark his gloomy way.

Quick fix the nets, and cut off his retreat Into the sheltering deeps. Ah, there he vents!

The pack lunge headlong, and protended spears Menace destruction: while the troubled surge Indignant foams, and all the scaly kind Affrighted, hide their heads. Wild tumult reigns, And loud uproar. Ah, there once more he vents!

See, that bold hound has seized him; down they sink, Together lost: but soon shall he repent _440 His rash a.s.sault. See there escaped, he flies Half-drowned, and clambers up the slippery bank With ouze and blood distained. Of all the brutes, Whether by Nature formed, or by long use, This artful diver best can bear the want Of vital air. Unequal is the fight, Beneath the whelming element. Yet there He lives not long; but respiration needs At proper intervals. Again he vents; Again the crowd attack. That spear has pierced _450 His neck; the crimson waves confess the wound.

Fixed is the bearded lance, unwelcome guest, Where'er he flies; with him it sinks beneath, With him it mounts; sure guide to every foe.

Inly he groans; nor can his tender wound Bear the cold stream. Lo! to yon sedgy bank He creeps disconsolate; his numerous foes Surround him, hounds and men. Pierced through and through, On pointed spears they lift him high in air; Wriggling he hangs, and grins, and bites in vain: _460 Bid the loud horns, in gaily warbling strains, Proclaim the felon's fate; he dies, he dies.

Rejoice, ye scaly tribes, and leaping dance Above the wave, in sign of liberty Restored; the cruel tyrant is no more.

Rejoice, secure and blessed; did not as yet Remain, some of your own rapacious kind; And man, fierce man, with all his various wiles.

O happy, if ye knew your happy state, Ye rangers of the fields! whom Nature boon _470 Cheers with her smiles, and every element Conspires to bless. What, if no heroes frown From marble pedestals; nor Raphael's works, Nor t.i.tian's lively tints, adorn our walls?

Yet these the meanest of us may behold; And at another's cost may feast at will Our wondering eyes; what can the owner more?

But vain, alas! is wealth, not graced with power.

The flowery landscape, and the gilded dome, And vistas opening to the wearied eye, _480 Through all his wide domain; the planted grove, The shrubby wilderness with its gay choir Of warbling birds, can't lull to soft repose The ambitious wretch, whose discontented soul Is harrowed day and night; he mourns, he pines, Until his prince's favour makes him great.

See, there he comes, the exalted idol comes!

The circle's formed, and all his fawning slaves Devoutly bow to earth; from every mouth The nauseous flattery flows, which he returns _490 With promises, that die as soon as born.

Vile intercourse! where virtue has no place.

Frown but the monarch; all his glories fade; He mingles with the throng, outcast, undone, The pageant of a day; without one friend To soothe his tortured mind; all, all are fled.

For though they basked in his meridian ray, The insects vanish, as his beams decline.

Not such our friends; for here no dark design, No wicked interest bribes the venal heart; _500 But inclination to our bosom leads, And weds them there for life; our social cups Smile, as we smile; open, and unreserved.

We speak our inmost souls; good humour, mirth, Soft complaisance, and wit from malice free, Smoothe every brow, and glow on every cheek.

O happiness sincere! what wretch would groan Beneath the galling load of power, or walk Upon the slippery pavements of the great, Who thus could reign, unenvied and secure?

_510 Ye guardian powers who make mankind your care, Give me to know wise Nature's hidden depths, Trace each mysterious cause, with judgment read The expanded volume, and submiss adore That great creative Will, who at a word Spoke forth the wondrous scene. But if my soul To this gross clay confined, flutters on earth With less ambitious wing; unskilled to range From orb to orb, where Newton leads the way; And view with piercing eyes, the grand machine, _520 Worlds above worlds; subservient to his voice, Who veiled in clouded majesty, alone Gives light to all; bids the great system move, And changeful seasons in their turns advance, Unmoved, unchanged himself; yet this at least Grant me propitious, an inglorious life, Calm and serene, nor lost in false pursuits Of wealth or honours; but enough to raise My drooping friends, preventing modest want That dares not ask. And if to crown my joys, _530 Ye grant me health, that, ruddy in my cheeks, Blooms in my life's decline; fields, woods, and streams, Each towering hill, each humble vale below, Shall hear my cheering voice, my hounds shall wake The lazy morn, and glad the horizon round.

END OF SOMERVILLE'S CHASE.

[Footnote 1: In republis.h.i.+ng only the "Chase" of Somerville and "the Fables" of Gay, we have acted on the principle of selecting the best, and the most characteristic, in our age, perhaps the only readable specimen of either poet.]

[Footnote 2: 'Great Prince:' Prince Frederick. Our readers will remember the humorous epitaph on him, in edifying contrast to Somerville's praise:--

'Here lies Fred, Who was alive, and is dead: If it had been his father, I'd much rather; Had it been his mother, Better than another; Were it his sister, n.o.body would have miss'd her; Were it the whole generation, The better for the nation.

But since it's only Fred, There's no more to be said, But that he was alive, and is dead.'

We quote this from recollection of Thackeray's recitation, but think it pretty accurate.]

[Footnote 3: 'Neustria:' Normandy.]

[Footnote 4: 'Fountain of light,' &c. Scott as well as Somerville loved to write in brilliant suns.h.i.+ne.]

[Footnote 6: 'Talbot kind:' Derived, we think, from the famous John Talbot, the first Earl of Shrewsbury, who employed this species of hound against the Irish rebels.]

[Footnote 7: 'Aurengzebe:' in 1659, seized the throne of India, after murdering his relatives, but became a good, wise, and brave emperor.]

[Footnote 8: 'Ammon's son:' Alexander the Great.]

[Footnote 9: 'Blooming youth:' Fred again.]

[Footnote 10: 'Apulia:' now Puglia, the south-eastern part of Italy.]