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To sweet repast th' unwary partridge sties,
The flutt'ring coveys from the stubble rife,
Not closest coverts can protect the game: Hark! the dog opens ; take thy certain aim ; The woodcock flutters; how he wav'ring flies ! The wood refounds : he wheels, he drops, he dies. The tow’ring hawk let future poets fing, Who terror bears upon his foaring wing : Let them on high the frighted hern furvey, And lofty numbers paint their airy fray. Nor shall the mountain lark the mufe detain, That greets the morning with his early strain ; When, 'midft his fong, the twinkling glass betrays, While from each angle flash the glancing rays, And in the fun the tranfient colours blaze : Pride lures the little warbler from the skies, The light enamour'd bird deluded dies. But still the chafe, a pleasing task, remains ; The hound must open in these rural strains. Soon as Aurora drives away the night, And edges eastern clouds with rosy light, The healthy huntsman, with a chearful horn, Summons the dogs, and greets the dappled morn; The jocund thunder wakes th' enliven'd hounds, They roufe from sleep, and answer founds for founds ; Wide through the furzy field their route they take, Their bleeding bosoms force the thorny brake : The flying game their fmoaking nostrils trace, No bounding hedge obstructs their eager pace ; The distant mountains echo from afar, And hanging woods refound the flying war : The tuneful noife the sprightly courser hears, Paws the green turf, and pricks his trembling ears ; The flacken'd rein now gives him all his speed, Back flies the rapid ground beneath the steed ; Hills, dales, and forests far behind remain, While the warm scent draws on the deep-mouth'd train, Where shall the trembling hair a fhelter fiņd ? Hark ! death advances in each gust of wind! New stratagems and doubling wiles she tries, Now circling turns, and now at large she flies ; Till spent at last, she pạnts and heaves for breath, Then lays her down, and waits devouring death.
We cannot part from Mr. Gay withouttakingfomenotice
of his Trivia, or Art of Walking the Streets; a didactic poem of the burlesque kind, which he has heighten'd and made entertaining, by many diverting fictions, fimilies, digressions and descriptions, very poetically and artfully introduced. Of these the following fable, by which he accounts for the rife of the Patten, is finely
Good housewives all the winter's rage despise,
Where Lincoln wide extends her fenny foil,
Soon as the grey-ey'd morning ítreaks the skies, , ,
Vukan by chance the blooming maiden spies, *
With innocence and beauty in her eyes,
Straight the new engine on the anvilglows, :
And the pale virgin on the patten rose. . . . . . . .
Presents with female virtue must prevail.
f: - - - Another
Another fable, or rather episode, he has inferted, in which, with great humour he employs the heathen Gods and Goddeffes in making materials to fet up a black-shoeboy, who was fon to the Goddess Cloacina, whence the
poet derives the origin of that trade; and what makes it
yet more droll and diverting, he has gravely introduced it with a ridicule on one of the rules laid down to render