Book I.
THE CHACE.
13
In bloody Broils and Death. High o'er thy Head
Wave thy resounding Whip, and with a Voice
Fierce-menacing o'er-rule the stern Debate,
And quench their kindling Rage; for oft in Sport
Begun, Combat ensues, growling they snarl, 195
Then on their Haunches rear'd, rampant they seize
Each others Throats, with Teeth, and Claws, in Gore
Besmear'd, they wound, they tear, 'till on the Ground,
Panting, half dead the conquer'd Champion lies:
Then sudden all the base ignoble Crowd 200
Loud-clam'ring seize the helpless worried Wretch,
And thirsting for his Blood, drag diff'rent Ways
His mangled Carcass on th' ensanguin'd Plain.
O Breasts of Pity void! t'oppress the Weak,
To point your Vengeance at the friendless Head, 205
Wave thy resounding Whip, and with a Voice
Fierce-menacing o'er-rule the stern Debate,
And quench their kindling Rage; for oft in Sport
Begun, Combat ensues, growling they snarl, 195
Then on their Haunches rear'd, rampant they seize
Each others Throats, with Teeth, and Claws, in Gore
Besmear'd, they wound, they tear, 'till on the Ground,
Panting, half dead the conquer'd Champion lies:
Then sudden all the base ignoble Crowd 200
Loud-clam'ring seize the helpless worried Wretch,
And thirsting for his Blood, drag diff'rent Ways
His mangled Carcass on th' ensanguin'd Plain.
O Breasts of Pity void! t'oppress the Weak,
To point your Vengeance at the friendless Head, 205
And
