Ye owners! ye drivers! reflect, and be just, Know, Providence lends all his creatures in trust, And they who misuse them, nor suffer remorse, Must account to the Maker of both man and Horse. XXXI. THE HARE HUNT. BY MR. DIBDIN. J. P. SINCE Zeph'rus first tasted the charms of coy Flora, Sure Nature ne'er beam'd on so lovely a morn, Ten thousand sweet birds court the smile of Aurora, And the woods loudly echo the sound of the horn: Yet the morn's not so lovely, so brilliant, so gay, As their splendid appearance in gallant array, When all ready mounted, they number their forces, Enough the wild boar and the tiger to scare: Pity fifty stout beings, count dogs, men, and horses, Should encounter such peril-to kill one poor hare! 2 Little wretch, thy fate's hard!-thou wert gentle and blameless ; Yet a type of the world in thy fortune we see ; And virtue, by monsters as cruel and shameless, Poor, defenceless, and timid, is hunted like thee. See! vainly each path how she doubles and tries: If she scape the hound Treachery, by Slander she dies! To o'ercome that meek fear for which men should respect her, Ev'ry art is employ'd, ev'ry sly subtle snarePity those that were born to defend and protect her, Should hunt to her ruin-so timid a Hare! 3 Thus it fares with poor Merit, which mortals should cherish, As the heaven-gifted spark that illumines the mind; As Reason's best honour: lest with it should perish Ev'ry grace that perfection can lend to mankind. Hark! Envy's pack opens; the grim lurcher, Fear, And the mongrel, Vexation, skulk sly in the rear: The rest all rush on, at their head the whelp Slander, The fell mastiff Malice, the greyhound Despair! Pity beings best known by bright Truth and fair Candour Should hunt down-shame to manhood-so harmless a Hare! 4 Their sports at an end, harsh Reflection's beguiler To some thoughtless oblivion their souls they The Hunter's oblivion, as hurtful, is wine. Thus having destroy'd every rational joy And yet not in vain, if this lesson inspirit Ought of reverence for Genius, respect for the Fair: So the tear of lost Virtue and poor ruin'd Merit The sad manes shall appease of the innocent Hare. XXXII. HUMANITY'S COT. BY MR. DIBDIN. 1 Of horns, and of echoes, that thro' the woods ring, And of lads full of spirit and soul, And of gay sporting boxes let other bards sing, Merely built for the chase or the bowl: I bring you, of Sportsmen, a true and try'd knot, Who sport a snug box, called Humanity's Cot. 2 Is Honour in danger, Worth sunk by its fears, On those coursers their wishes, they're borne, To hunt Vice to the toils, and to dry Virtue's tears, As the sun melts the dew of the morn: Then join of true Sportsmen, so noble a knot, The good lads that inhabit Humanity's Cot. 3 What chase a delight can more glorious yield, Than to hunt in so noble a track? Vice and Folly the game, wide creation the field, And the Vot'ries of Honour the pack. Rejoice then, ye sportsmen, who are thrown by your lot, 'Mongst the lads that inhabit Humanity's Cot. 4 Return'd from their toil, with life's comforts well stor'd, Reflection their food gives a zest ; Health seasons the viand that smoaks on their board, A clear conscience invites them to rest. And sweet are the slumbers that fall to the lot Of the lads that inhabit Humanity's Cot. 5 Let each English sportsman these maxims embrace, Who the spoils of true honour would share, All that's noxious to hunt to the toils in life's chase, All that's harmless and useful to spare : |