Page:Pocock's Everlasting Songster.djvu/37

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The hounds were out, and fnuff'd the air, And fcarce had reached the appointed (hot,

But pleaf 'd they heard a layer, a layer, And prefently drew on the fpot.

'Twas glorious {port, &c.

And now o'er yonder plain flie fleets,

The deep-mouth'd hounds begin to bawl,

And echo note tor note repeats,

While fprightly horns refound the call.

'Twas glorious fport, c.

And now the flag has loft his pace,

And while ware-haunch, the huntfman cries,

His bofom fwells, tears wet his face, He pants, he Itruggies, and he dies.

'Twas glorious fport, &c.

��PLATO'S ADVICE.

SAYS Plato, why (hould man be yam, Since bounteous heav'n hath maoe him great? Why look, with infolent difdain,

On thofe undeck'd with weal.h orftate, Can coftly robes, or beds of down, Or all the gems that deck the fair, Can all the glories of a crown,

Give health, or eafe the brow of care ?

The fcepter'd king, the burthen'd flave,

The humble, and the haughty, die, The rich, the poor, the bale, the brave,

Induft, without diftinclion lie.

Go,

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