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c Sound wind and limb, as any ever was,
“ And rising only seven years old next grass. * Four miles an hour she goes, nor needs a spur; “ A pretty piece of flesh, upon my conscience, sir.”
This speech was Bts; and, tho' mean in phrase, The nearest thing to prose, as Horace says, (Satire the fourth, and forty-second line) 'Twill intimate that I propose to dine Next week with B ***. Muse, lend thine aid a while; -For this great purpose claims a lofty style.
Ere yonder sun, now glorious in the west, Has thrice three times reclined on Thetis' breast; Ere thrice three times, from old Tithonus' bed, Her charms all glowing with celestial red, The balmy morn shall rise to mortal view, And from her bright locks shake the pearls of dew, These eyes, O B***, shall hail thy opening glades, These ears shall catch the music of thy shades ; This cherished frame shall drink the gladsome gales, And the fresh fragrance of thy flowery vales.
And (for I know the Muse will come along)
I ask not ortolans, or Chian wine,
H A R E S,
Yes, yes, I grant the sons of earth
Are doomed to trouble from their birth :
We all of sorrow have our share ;
But say, Is your's without compare?
Each individual of our kind
Pressed with an equal load of ill,
Or view the couch where Sickness lies;
Mark his pale cheek, and languid eyes,
Mild was the morn, the sky serene, The jolly hunting band convene ; The beagle's breast with ardour burns; The bounding steed the champaign spurns ; And fancy oft the game descries Through the hound's nose, and huntsman's eyes.
Just then, a council of the hares Had met, on national affairs.
The chiefs were set ; while o'er their head
" Unite their wits to work us ill :
“ The youth, his parent's sole delight,
May yet e'er noontide meet his death, “ And lie dismembered on the heath : “ For youth, alas ! nor cautious age, “ Nor strength, nor speed, eludes their rage. “ In every field we meet the foe, “ Each gale comes fraught with sounds of woe : “ The morning but awakes our fears, “ The evening sees us bathed in tears.