d he leads, then with a voice
That utters loud his rage, attentive cheers:
Soon the sagacious brute, his curling tail

Flourished in air, low-bending plies around
_320
His busy nose, the steaming vapour snuff
Inquisitive, nor leaves one turf untried,
Till conscious of the recent stains, his heart
Beats quick; his snuffling nose, his active tail
Attest his joy; then with deep opening mouth
That makes the welkin tremble, he proclaims
The audacious felon; foot by foot he marks
His winding way, while all the listening crowd
Applaud his reasonings. O'er the watery ford,
Dry sandy heaths, and stony barren hill,
_330
O'er beaten paths, with men and beasts distained,
Unerring he pursues; till at the cot
Arrived, and seizing by his guilty throat
The caitiff' vile, redeems the captive prey:
So exquisitely delicate his sense!
Should some more curious sportsman here inquire,
Whence this sagacity, this wondrous power
Of tracing step by step, or man or brute?

What guide invisible points out their way,
O'er the dank marsh, bleak hill, and sandy plain?
_340
The courteous Muse shall the dark cause reveal.
The blood that from the heart incessant rolls
In many a crimson tide, then here and there
In smaller rills disparted, as it flows
Propelled, the serous particles evade
Through the open pores, and with the ambient air
Entangling mix. As fuming vapours rise,
And hang upon the gently purling brook,
There by the incumbent atmosphere compressed,
The panting chase grows warmer as he flies,
_350
And through the net-work of the skin perspires;
Leaves a long-streaming trail behind, which by
The cooler air condensed, remains, unless
By some rude storm dispersed, or rarefied
By the meridian sun's intenser heat.
To every shrub the warm effluvia cling,
Hang on the grass, impregnate earth and skies.
With nostrils opening wide, o'er hill, o'er dale,
The vigorous hounds pursue, with every breath
Inhale the grateful steam, quick pleasures sting
_360
Their tingling nerves, while they their thanks repay,
And in triumphant melody confess
The titillating joy. Thus on the air
Depend the hunter's hopes. When ruddy streaks
At eve forebode a blustering stormy day,
Or lowering clouds blacken the mountain's brow,
When nipping frosts, and the keen biting blasts
Of the dry parching east, menace the trees
With tender blossoms teeming, k