Rear the triumphal arch, rich with the exploits
Of thy illustrious house; while virgins pave
Thy way with flowers, and, as the royal youth
Passing they view, admire, and sigh in vain;
While crowded theatres, too fondly proud
_10
Of their exotic minstrels, and shrill pipes,
The price of manhood, hail thee with a song,
And airs soft-warbling; my hoarse-sounding horn
Invites thee to the Chase, the sport of kings;
Image of war, without its guilt. The Muse
Aloft on wing shall soar, conduct with care
Thy foaming courser o'er the steepy rock,
Or on the river bank receive thee safe,
Light-bounding o'er the wave, from shore to shore.
Be thou our great protector, gracious youth!
_20
And if in future times, some envious prince,
Careless of right and guileful, should invade
Thy Britain's commerce, or should strive in vain
To wrest the balance from thy equal hand;
Thy hunter-train, in cheerful green arrayed,
(A band undaunted, and inured to toils,)
Shall compass thee around, die at thy feet,
Or hew thy passage through the embattled foe,
And clear thy way to fame; inspired by thee
The nobler chase of glory shall pursue
_30
Through fire, and smoke, and blood, and fields of death.
Nature, in her productions slow, aspires
By just degrees to reach perfection's height:
So mimic Art works leisurely, till Time
Improve the piece, or wise Experience give
The proper finishing. When Nimrod bold,
That mighty hunter, first made war on beasts,
And stained the woodland green with purple dye,
New and unpolished was the huntsman's art;
No stated rule, his wanton will his guide.
_40
With clubs and stones, rude implements of war,
He armed his savage bands, a multitude
Untrained; of twining osiers formed, they pitch
Their artless toils, then range the desert hills,
And scour the plains below; the trembling herd
Start at the unusual sound, and clamorous shout
Unheard before; surprised alas! to find
Man now their foe, whom erst they deemed their lord,
But mild and gentle, and by whom as yet
Secure they grazed. Death stretches o'er the plain
_50
Wide-wasting, and grim slaughter red with blood:
Urged on by hunger keen, they wound, they kill,
Their rage licentious knows no bound; at last
Incumbered with their spoils, joyful they bear
Upon their shoulders broad, the bleeding prey.
Part on their altars smokes a sacrifice
To that all-g