27 And on these belts, wrought with their ladies' care, Hung cimeters of Akon's trusty steel; Goodly to see, and he who durst compare

Those ladies' eyes, might soon their temper feel.

28 Cheered as the woods, where new-waked choirs they meet,

Are all; and now dispose their choice relays

Of horse and hounds, each like each other fleet; Which best, when with themselves compared, we praise.

29 To them old forest spies, the harbourers,

With haste approach, wet as still weeping night,
Or deer that mourn their growth of head with tears,
When the defenceless weight does hinder flight.

30 And dogs, such whose cold secrecy was meant
By Nature for surprise, on these attend;
Wise, temperate lime-hounds that proclaim no scent,
Nor harb'ring will their mouths in boasting spend.

31 Yet vainlier far than traitors boast their prize,
On which their vehemence vast rates does lay,
Since in that worth their treason's credit lies,
These harb'rers praise that which they now betray.
32 Boast they have lodged a stag, that all the race
Outruns of Croton horse, or Rhegian hounds;
A stag made long since royal in the chase,
If kings can honour give by giving wounds.

33 For Aribert had pierced him at a bay,

Yet 'scaped he by the vigour of his head;
And many a summer since has won the day,
And often left his Rhegian followers dead.

34 His spacious beam, that even the rights outgrew,
From antler to his troch had all allowed,
By which his age the aged woodmen knew,
Who more than he were of that beauty proud.

35 Now each relay a several station finds,

Ere the triumphant train the copse surrounds;
Relays of horse, long breathed as winter winds,
And their deep cannon-mouthed experienced
hounds.

36 The huntsmen, busily concerned in show,

As if the world were by this beast undone,
And they against him hired as Nature's foe,

In haste uncouple, and their hounds outrun.

37 Now wind they a recheat, the roused deer's knell, And through the forest all the beasts are awed; Alarmed by Echo, Nature's sentinel,

Which shows that murderous man is come abroad.

38 Tyrannic man! thy subjects' enemy!

And more through wantonness than need or hate, From whom the winged to their coverts fly,

And to their dens even those that lay in wait.

39 So this, the most successful of his kind,

Whose forehead's force oft his opposers pressed,
Whose swiftness left pursuers' shafts behind,
Is now of all the forest most distressed!

40 The herd deny him shelter, as if taught

To know their safety is to yield him lost;

Which shows they want not the results of thought,
But speech, by which we ours for reason boast.

41 We blush to see our politics in beasts,

Who many saved by this one sacrifice;
And since through blood they follow interests,
Like us when cruel should be counted wise.

42 His rivals, that his fury used to fear

For his loved female, now his faintness shun;
But were his season hot, and she but near,

(O mighty love!) his hunters were undone.

43 From thence, well blown, he comes to the relay, Where man's famed reason proves but cowardice, And only serves him meanly to betray;

Even for the flying, man in ambush lies.

44 But now, as his last remedy to live,

(For every shift for life kind Nature makes, Since life the utmost is which she can give,) Cool Adice from the swoln bank he takes.

45 But this fresh bath the dogs will make him leave,
Whom he sure-nosed as fasting tigers found;
Their scent no north-east wind could e'er deceive
Which drives the air, nor flocks that soil the ground.

46 Swift here the fliers and pursuers seem;

The frighted fish swim from their Adice,
The dogs pursue the deer, he the fleet stream,
And that hastes too to the Adriatic sea.

47 Refreshed thus in this fleeting element,

He up the steadfast shore did boldly rise;
And soon escaped their view, but not their scent,

That faithful guide, which even conducts their eyes.

48 This frail relief was like short gales of breath,
Which oft at sea a long dead calm prepare;
Or like our curtains drawn at point of death,
When all our lungs are spent, to give us air.

49 For on the shore the hunters him attend: And whilst the chase grew warm as is the day, (Which now from the hot zenith does descend,) He is embossed, and wearied to a bay.

50 The jewel, life, he must surrender here,

Which the world's mistress, Nature, does not give,
But like dropped favours suffers us to wear,
Such as by which pleased lovers think they live.

51 Yet life he so esteems, that he allows

It all defence his force and rage can make;
And to the eager dogs such fury shows,

As their last blood some unrevenged forsake.

52 But now the monarch murderer comes in,
Destructive man! whom Nature would not arm,
As when in madness mischief is foreseen,
We leave it weaponless for fear of harm.

53 For she defenceless made him, that he might
Less readily offend; but art arms all,
From single strife makes us in numbers fight;
And by such art this royal stag did fall.

54 He weeps till grief does even his murderers pierce; Grief which so nobly through his nobly through his anger strove,

That it deserved the dignity of verse,

And had it words, as humanly would move.

55 Thrice from the ground his vanquished head he reared, And with last looks his forest walks did view;

Where sixty summers he had ruled the herd,

And where sharp dittany now vainly grew:

56 Whose hoary leaves no more his wounds shall heal;
For with a sigh (a blast of all his breath)
That viewless thing, called life, did from him steal,
And with their bugle-horns they wind his death.

57 Then with their annual wanton sacrifice,

Taught by old custom, whose decrees are vain, And we, like humorous antiquaries, that prize Age, though deformed, they hasten to the plain. 58 Thence homeward bend as westward as the sun, Where Gondibert's allies proud feasts prepare, That day to honour which his grandsire won; Though feasts the eves to funerals often are.

59 One from the forest now approached their sight, Who them did swiftly on the spur pursue; One there still resident as day and night,

And known as the eldest oak which in it grew:

60 Who, with his utmost breath advancing, cries,
(And such a vehemence no heart could feign,)
'Away! happy the man that fastest flies!

Fly, famous Duke! fly with thy noble train!'

61 The Duke replied: "Though with thy fears disguised, Thou dost my sire's old ranger's image bear,

And for thy kindness shalt not be despised;
Though counsels are but weak which come from

fear.