They gather'd clofe around the old pit's brink,
And thought again-but knew not what to think.
The man to folitude accuftom'd long,
Perceives in ev'ry thing that lives a tongue;
Not animals alone, but fhrubs and trees,
Have fpeech for him, and understood with ease;
After long drought, when rains abundant fall,
He hears the herbs and flowers rejoicing all;
Knows what the freshness of their hue implies,
How glad they catch the largeness of the skies;
But, with precifion nicer ftill, the mind
He scans of ev'ry loco-motive kind;
Birds of all feather, beasts of ev'ry name,
That serve mankind, or fhun them, wild or tame;
The looks and gestures of their griefs and fears
Have, all, articulation in his ears;
He spells them true by intuition's light,
And needs no gloffary to fet him right.
This truth premis'd was needful as a text,
To win due credence to what follows next.
Awhile they mus'd; furveying ev'ry face,
Thou hadft fuppos'd them of fuperior race;
Their periwigs of wool, and fears combin'd,
Stamp'd on each countenance fuch marks of mind,
That fage they feem'd, as lawyers o'er a doubt,
Which, puzzling long, at laft they puzzle out;
Or academic tutors, teaching youths,
Sure ne'er to want them, mathematic truths;
When thus a mutton, ftatelier than the rest,
A ram, the ewes and wethers, fad, address'd.
Friends! we have liv'd too long. I never heard
Sounds fuch as thefe, fo worthy to be fear'd.
Could I believe, that winds for ages pent
In earth's dark womb have found at laft a vent,
And from their prifon-house below arise,
With all thefe hideous howlings to the skies,
I could be much compos'd, nor fhould appear
For fuch a caufe to feel the flighteft fear.
Yourselves have feen, what time the thunders roll'd
All night, me refling quiet in the fold.
Or heard we that tremendous bray alone,
I could expound the melancholy tone;
Should deem it by our old companion made,
The afs; for he, we know, has lately stray'd,
And being loft, perhaps, and wand'ring wide,
Might be fuppos'd to clamour for a guide.
But ah! thofe dreadful yells what foul can hear,
That owns a carcafe, and not quake for fear?
Dæmons produce them doubtlefs, brazen-claw'd
And fang'd with brass the dæmons are abroad;
I hold it, therefore, wifest and most fit,
That, life to save, we leap into the pit.
Him anfwer'd then his loving mate and true,
But more discreet than he, a Cambrian ewe.
How? leap into the pit our life to fave?
To fave our life leap all into the grave?
For can we find it lefs? Contemplate first
The depth how awful! falling there, we burst;
Or fhould the brambles, interpos'd, our fall
In part abate, that happiness were small;
For with a race like theirs no chance I fee
peace or eafe to creatures clad as we. Meantime, noife kills not. Be it Dapple's bray, Or be it not, or be it whofe it may,
And rush those other founds, that feem by tongues
Of dæmons utter'd, from whatever lungs,
Sounds are but founds, and till the cause appear,
We have at least commodious standing here;
Come, fiend, come, fury, giant, monster, blaft
From earth or hell, we can but plunge at laft.
While thus fhe fpake, I fainter heard the peals,
For reynard, close attended at his heels,
By panting dog, tir'd man, and fpatter'd horfe,
Through mere good fortune, took a diff'rent course.
The flock grew calm again, and I, the road
Following that led me to my own abode,
Much wonder'd that the filly fheep had found
Such cause of terror in an empty found,
So fweet to huntsman, gentleman, and hound.
Beware of defp'rate steps. The darkest day (Live till to-morrow) will have pass'd away.
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