Page:The Chace - Somervile (1735).djvu/132

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THE CHACE.
Book IV.
Redden with Fury, like some angry BoarChurning he foams; and on his Back erectHis pointed Bristles rise; his Tale incurv'dHe drops, and with harsh broken Howlings rends 225The poison-tainted Air, with rough hoarse VoiceIncessant Bays; and snuffs th' infectious Breeze;This Way and that he stares aghast, and startsAt his own Shade; jealous, as if he deem'dThe World his Foes. If haply tow'rd the Stream 230He cast his roving Eye, cold Horror chillsHis Soul; averse he flies, trembling, appall'd.Now frantick to the Kennel's utmost VergeRaving he runs, and deals Destruction round.The Pack fly diverse; for whate'er he meets 235Vengeful he bites, and ev'ry Bite is Death.
If now perchance thro' the weak Fence escap'd,Far up the Wind he roves, with open Mouth

Inhales

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