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272

FISHING-HUNTING, &c.

She flies, she stretches now with nimble bound;
Eager he presses on, but overshoots his ground;
She turns; he winds, and soon regains the way,
Then tears with gory mouth the screaming prey.
GAY'S Rural Sports.

9. See how the well-taught pointer leads the way!
The scent grows warm; he stops; he springs the
The fluttering coveys from the stubble rise,
And on swift wings divide the sounding skies;
The scattering lead pursues the certain sight,
And death in thunder overtakes their flight.

prey;

GAY'S Rural Sports.

10. Soon as Aurora drives away the night,

11.

And edges eastern clouds with rosy light,
The healthy huntsman, with the cheerful horn,
Summons the dogs, and greets the dappled morn.
The jocund thunder wakes the enliven❜d hounds,
They rouse from sleep, and answer sounds for sounds;
Wide through the furzy fields their course they take,
Their bleeding bosoms force the thorny brake:
The flying game their smoking nostrils trace,
No bounding hedge obstructs their eager pace.
The distant mountains echo from afar,
The hanging woods resound the flying war;
The tuneful noise the sprightly courser hears,
Paws the green turf, and pricks his trembling ears;
The slacken'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.
GAY'S Rural Sports.

-High in air

He waves his varied plumes, stretching away
With hasty wing. Soon from the uplifted tube
The mimic thunder bursts; the leaden death

O'ertakes him, and with many a giddy whirl
To earth he falls, and at my feet expires.

12. In genial spring, beneath the quiv'ring shade,
Where cooling vapours breathe along the mead,
The patient fisher takes his silent stand,
Intent, his angle trembling in his hand :
With looks unmov'd he hopes the scaly breed,
And eyes the dancing cork and bending reed.

SOMERVILE.

POPE'S Windsor Forest.

13. Ye vig'rous swains! while youth ferments your blood,
And purer spirits swell the sprightly flood,
Now range the hills, the gameful woods beset,
Wind the shrill horn, or spread the waving net.
When milder autumn summer's heat succeeds,
And in the new-shorn field the partridge feeds,
Before his lord the ready spaniel bounds,
Panting with hope, he tries the furrow'd grounds;
But when the tainted gales the game betray,
Couch'd close he lies, and meditates the prey;
Secure they trust th' unfaithful field beset,
Till, hovering o'er them, sweeps the swelling net.

POPE'S Windsor Forest.

14. He thought, at heart, like courtly Chesterfield,
Who, after a long chase o'er hills, dales, bushes,
And what not, though he rode beyond all price,
Ask'd next day "if men ever hunted twice?"

15.

BYRON'S Don Juan.

-With a swimmer's stroke

Flinging the billows back from my drench'd hair,
And laughing from my lip the audacious brine,
Which kiss'd it like a wine-cup, rising o'er
The waves as they arose, and prouder still
The loftier they uplifted me.

BYRON'S Two Foscari.

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1. Or who would ever care to do brave deed,
Or strive in virtue others to excel,
If none should yield him his deserved meed,
Due praise, that is the spur of doing well?
For if good were not praised more than ill,

None would choose goodness of his own free will.

2. That, sir, which serves and seeks for gain,

And follows but for form,

Will pack when it begins to rain,

And leave thee in the storm.

3. He would not flatter Neptune for his trident; Or Jove for his power to thunder.

4.

You play the spaniel,

SPENSER.

SHAKSPEARE.

SHAKSPEARE.

And think with wagging of your tongue to win me.

5. Of all wild beasts, preserve me from a tyrant; And of all tame-a flatterer.

6. The firmest purpose of a woman's heart To well-tim'd, artful flattery may yield.

SHAKSPEARE.

BEN JONSON.

LILLO.

7. "T is an old maxim in the schools, That flattery's the food of fools,

Yet, now and then, your men of wit
Will condescend to take a bit.

SWIFT.

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By nature great, are conscious of their greatness,
And hold it mean to borrow aught from flattery.

9. My soul is open to the charms of praise:

There is no joy beyond it, when the mind
Of him who hears it can, with honest pride,
Confess it just, and listen to its music.

ROWE.

WHITEHEAD's Roman Father.

10. In praising Chloris, moon, and stars, and skies, Are quickly made to match her face and eyes; And gold and rubies, with as little care,

To fit the colour of her lips and hair;

And mixing suns, and flowers, and pearls and stones,
Make them seem all complexions at once.

11. For praise, that's due, does give no more To worth than what it had before;

But, to commend without desert,

Requires a mastery of art,

That sets a glass on what's amiss,

BUTLER.

And says what should be, not what is.

BUTLER.

12. The love of praise, howe'er conceal'd by art,
Reigns, more or less, and glows in every heart;
The proud, to gain it, toils on toils endure,
The modest shun it, but to make it sure.

YOUNG'S Love of Fame.

13. Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came,
And the puff of a dunce, he mistook it for fame;
Till, his relish grown callous almost to disease,
Who pepper'd the highest, was surest to please.

GOLDSMITH'S Retaliation.

14. A flattering painter, who made it his care

To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.

GOLDSMITH'S Retaliation.

276

FLATTERY-SYCOPHANT - PRAISE.

15. To hear his soothing tales, she feigns delays; What woman can resist the force of praise?

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20. Praise of the wise and good!—it is a meed
For which I would long years of toil endure-
Which many a peril, many a grief, would cure.

POPE.

SIR E. BRYDGES.

21. Oh! it is worse than mockery to list the flatt'rer's tone, To lend a ready ear to thoughts the cheek must blush to

own,

To hear the red lip whisper'd of, and the flowing curl, and

eye,

Made constant theme of eulogy extravagant and high-
And the charm of person worshipp'd, in an homage offer'd

not

To the perfect charm of virtue, and the majesty of thought.
J. G. WHITTIER.

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