Page:The Chace - Somervile (1735).djvu/87

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Book III.
THE CHACE.
67
Makes many a faint Effort: He snorts, he foams,The big round Drops run trickling down his Sides,With Sweat and Blood distain'd. Look back and view 115The strange Confusion of the Vale below,Where sow'r Vexation reigns; see yon poor Jade,In vain th' impatient Rider frets and swears,With galling Spurs harrows his mangled Sides;He can no more: His stiff unpliant Limbs 120Rooted in Earth, unmov'd, and fix'd he stands,For ev'ry cruel Curse returns a Groan,And sobs, and faints, and dies. Who without GriefCan view that pamper'd Steed, his Master's Joy,His Minion, and his daily Care, well cloath'd, 125Well-fed with ev'ry nicer Cate; no Cost,No Labour spar'd; who, when the flying ChaceBroke from the Copse, without a Rival led

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