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THE CHACE.
Book I.
Brew back his lowing Prize: In vain his Wiles,In vain the Shelter of the cov'ring Rock,In vain the sooty Cloud, and ruddy FlamesThat issu'd from his Mouth; for soon he paid 305His forfeit Life: A Debt how justly dueTo wrong'd Alcides, and avenging Heav'n!Veil'd in the Shades of Night they ford the Stream,Then proling far and near, whate'er they seizeBecomes their Prey; nor Flocks nor Herds are safe, 310Nor Stalls protect the Steer, nor strong barr'd DoorsSecure the fav'rite Horse, Soon as the MornReveals his Wrongs, with ghastly Visage wanThe plunder'd Owner stands, and from his LipsA thousand thronging Curses burst their Way: 315He calls his stout Allies, and in a LineHis faithful Hound he leads, then with a VoiceThat utters loud his Rage, attentive chears:

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